{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27146/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27146","id":"gutenberg_27146","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27146","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Drugs/Alcohol/Pharmacology","Category: Health & Medicine","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Sociology","Temperance"],"text":"Produced by Bryan Ness, Deirdre M., and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from scans of public domain works at the\nUniversity of Michigan's Making of America collection.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Every effort has been made to replicate this text as\nfaithfully as possible; please see detailed list of printing issues at\nthe end of the text. The original page numbering of each tract has been\nmaintained; for ease of reference, the preparer of the e-text has\nassigned each tract a letter, and appended the identifying letters to\nthe original page numbers.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nSELECT TEMPERANCE TRACTS.\n\n\n[Illustration: Scene in a bar-room]\n\n\n PUBLISHED BY THE\n AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY,\n 150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n                                                        Pages\n\n EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS. By Dr. Rush                     8 [A]\n\n TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. By Rev. Dr. Edwards            32 [B]\n\n REWARDS OF DRUNKENNESS                                     4 [C]\n\n THE WELL-CONDUCTED FARM                                   12 [D]\n\n KITTREDGE'S ADDRESS ON EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS          24 [E]\n\n DICKINSON'S APPEAL TO YOUTH                                8 [F]\n\n ALARM TO DISTILLERS AND THEIR ALLIES                       8 [G]\n\n PUTNAM AND THE WOLF                                       24 [H]\n\n HITCHCOCK ON THE MANUFACTURE OF ARDENT SPIRITS            28 [I]\n\n M'ILVAINE'S ADDRESS TO YOUNG MEN                          24 [J]\n\n WHO SLEW ALL THESE?                                        4 [K]\n\n SEWALL ON INTEMPERANCE                                    24 [L]\n\n BIBLE ARGUMENT FOR TEMPERANCE                             12 [M]\n\n FOUR REASONS AGAINST THE USE OF ALCOHOLIC LIQUORS         12 [N]\n\n DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE ON ARDENT SPIRITS                   16 [O]\n\n BARNES ON TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS                       24 [P]\n\n THE FOOLS' PENCE                                           8 [Q]\n\n THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED                             12 [R]\n\n JAMIE; OR A WORD FROM IRELAND FOR TEMPERANCE              16 [S]\n\n THE WONDERFUL ESCAPE                                       4 [T]\n\n THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS                                 16 [U]\n\n THE LOST MECHANIC RESTORED                                 4 [V]\n\n REFORMATION OF DRUNKARDS                                   4 [W]\n\n TOM STARBOARD AND JACK HALYARD                            24 [X]\n\n THE OX SERMON                                              8 [Y]\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTHE EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS\nUPON THE HUMAN BODY AND MIND.\n\nBY BENJAMIN RUSH, M. D.\n\n\nBy ardent spirits, I mean those liquors only which are obtained by\ndistillation from fermented substances of any kind. To their effects\nupon the bodies and minds of men, the following inquiry shall be\nexclusively confined.\n\nThe effects of ardent spirits divide themselves into such as are of a\nprompt, and such as are of a chronic nature. The former discover\nthemselves in drunkenness; and the latter in a numerous train of\ndiseases and vices of the body and mind.\n\nI. I shall begin by briefly describing their prompt or immediate effects\nin a fit of drunkenness.\n\nThis odious disease--for by that name it should be called--appears with\nmore or less of the following symptoms, and most commonly in the order\nin which I shall enumerate them.\n\n1. Unusual garrulity.\n\n2. Unusual silence.\n\n3. Captiousness, and a disposition to quarrel.\n\n4. Uncommon good-humor, and an insipid simpering, or laugh.\n\n5. Profane swearing and cursing.\n\n6. A disclosure of their own or other people's secrets.\n\n7. A rude disposition to tell those persons in company whom they know,\ntheir faults.\n\n8. Certain immodest actions. I am sorry to say this sign of the first\nstage of drunkenness sometimes appears in women, who, when sober, are\nuniformly remarkable for chaste and decent manners.\n\n9. A clipping of words.\n\n10. Fighting; a black eye, or a swelled nose, often mark this grade of\ndrunkenness.\n\n11. Certain extravagant acts which indicate a temporary fit of madness.\nThose are singing, hallooing, roaring, imitating the noises of brute\nanimals, jumping, tearing off clothes, dancing naked, breaking glasses\nand china, and dashing other articles of household furniture upon the\nground or floor. After a while the paroxysm of drunkenness is completely\nformed. The face now becomes flushed, the eyes project, and are somewhat\nwatery, winking is less frequent than is natural; the under lip is\nprotruded--the head inclines a little to one shoulder--the jaw\nfalls--belchings and hiccough take place--the limbs totter--the whole\nbody staggers. The unfortunate subject of this history next falls on his\nseat--he looks around him with a vacant countenance, and mutters\ninarticulate sounds to himself--he attempts to rise and walk: in this\nattempt he falls upon his side, from which he gradually turns upon his\nback: he now closes his eyes and falls into a profound sleep, frequently\nattended with snoring, and profuse sweats, and sometimes with such a\nrelaxation of the muscles which confine the bladder and the lower\nbowels, as to produce a symptom which delicacy forbids me to mention. In\nthis condition he often lies from ten, twelve, and twenty-four hours, to\ntwo, three, four, and five days, an object of pity and disgust to his\nfamily and friends. His recovery from this fit of intoxication is marked\nwith several peculiar appearances. He opens his eyes and closes them\nagain--he gapes and stretches his limbs--he then coughs and pukes--his\nvoice is hoarse--he rises with difficulty, and staggers to a chair--his\neyes resemble balls of fire--his hands tremble--he loathes the sight of\nfood--he calls for a glass of spirits to compose his stomach--now and\nthen he emits a deep-fetched sigh, or groan, from a transient twinge of\nconscience; but he more frequently scolds, and curses every thing around\nhim. In this stage of languor and stupidity he remains for two or three\ndays, before he is able to resume his former habits of business and\nconversation.\n\nPythagoras, we are told, maintained that the souls of men after death\nexpiated the crimes committed by them in this world, by animating\ncertain brute animals; and that the souls of those animals, in their\nturns, entered into men, and carried with them all their peculiar\nqualities and vices. This doctrine of one of the wisest and best of the\nGreek philosophers, was probably intended only to convey a lively idea\nof the changes which are induced in the body and mind of man by a fit of\ndrunkenness. In folly, it causes him to resemble a calf--in stupidity,\nan ass--in roaring, a mad bull--in quarrelling and fighting, a dog--in\ncruelty, a tiger--in fetor, a skunk--in filthiness, a hog--and in\nobscenity, a he-goat.\n\nIt belongs to the history of drunkenness to remark, that its paroxysms\noccur, like the paroxysms of many diseases, at certain periods, and\nafter longer or shorter intervals. They often begin with annual, and\ngradually increase in their frequency, until they appear in quarterly,\nmonthly, weekly, and quotidian or daily periods. Finally, they afford\nscarcely any marks of remission, either during the day or the night.\nThere was a citizen of Philadelphia, many years ago, in whom drunkenness\nappeared in this protracted form. In speaking of him to one of his\nneighbors, I said, \"Does he not _sometimes_ get drunk?\" \"You mean,\" said\nhis neighbor, \"is he not _sometimes_ sober?\"\n\nIt is further remarkable, that drunkenness resembles certain hereditary,\nfamily, and contagious diseases. I have once known it to descend from a\nfather to four out of five of his children. I have seen three, and once\nfour brothers, who were born of sober ancestors, affected by it; and I\nhave heard of its spreading through a whole family composed of members\nnot originally related to each other. These facts are important, and\nshould not be overlooked by parents, in deciding upon the matrimonial\nconnections of their children.\n\nII. Let us next attend to the chronic effects of ardent spirits upon the\nbody and mind. In the body they dispose to every form of acute disease;\nthey moreover _excite_ fevers in persons predisposed to them from other\ncauses. This has been remarked in all the yellow-fevers which have\nvisited the cities of the United States. Hard-drinkers seldom escape,\nand rarely recover from them. The following diseases are the usual\nconsequences of the habitual use of ardent spirits:\n\n1. A decay of appetite, sickness at stomach, and a puking of bile, or a\ndischarge of a frothy and viscid phlegm, by hawking, in the morning.\n\n2. Obstructions of the liver. The fable of Prometheus, on whose liver a\nvulture was said to prey constantly, as a punishment for his stealing\nfire from heaven, was intended to illustrate the painful effects of\nardent spirits upon that organ of the body.\n\n3. Jaundice, and dropsy of the belly and limbs, and finally of every\ncavity in the body. A swelling in the feet and legs is so characteristic\na mark of habits of intemperance, that the merchants in Charleston, I\nhave been told, cease to trust the planters of South Carolina as soon as\nthey perceive it. They very naturally conclude industry and virtue to be\nextinct in that man, in whom that symptom of disease has been produced\nby the intemperate use of distilled spirits.\n\n4. Hoarseness, and a husky cough, which often terminate in consumption,\nand sometimes in an acute and fatal disease of the lungs.\n\n5. Diabetes, that is, a frequent and weakening discharge of pale or\nsweetish urine.\n\n6. Redness, and eruptions on different parts of the body. They generally\nbegin on the nose, and after gradually extending all over the face,\nsometimes descend to the limbs in the form of leprosy. They have been\ncalled \"rum-buds,\" when they appear in the face. In persons who have\noccasionally survived these effects of ardent spirits on the skin, the\nface after a while becomes bloated, and its redness is succeeded by a\ndeath-like paleness. Thus, the same fire which produces a red color in\niron, when urged to a more intense degree, produces what has been called\na white-heat.\n\n7. A fetid breath, composed of every thing that is offensive in putrid\nanimal matter.\n\n8. Frequent and disgusting belchings. Dr. Haller relates the case of a\nnotorious drunkard having been suddenly destroyed, in consequence of the\nvapor discharged from his stomach by belching, accidentally taking fire\nby coming in contact with the flame of a candle.\n\n9. Epilepsy.\n\n10. Gout, in all its various forms of swelled limbs, colic, palsy, and\napoplexy.\n\n11. Lastly, madness. The late Dr. Waters, while he acted as house-pupil\nand apothecary of the Pennsylvania hospital, assured me, that in\none-third of the patients confined by this terrible disease, it had been\ninduced by ardent spirits.\n\nMost of the diseases which have been enumerated are of a mortal nature.\nThey are more certainly induced, and terminate more speedily in death,\nwhen spirits are taken in such quantities, and at such times, as to\nproduce frequent intoxication; but it may serve to remove an error with\nwhich some intemperate people console themselves, to remark, that ardent\nspirits often bring on fatal diseases without producing drunkenness. I\nhave known many persons destroyed by them who were never completely\nintoxicated during the whole course of their lives. The solitary\ninstances of longevity which are now and then met with in hard-drinkers,\nno more disprove the deadly effects of ardent spirits, than the solitary\ninstances of recoveries from apparent death by drowning, prove that\nthere is no danger to life from a human body lying an hour or two under\nwater.\n\nThe body, after its death from the use of distilled spirits, exhibits,\nby dissection, certain appearances which are of a peculiar nature. The\nfibres of the stomach and bowels are contracted--abscesses, gangrene,\nand schirri are found in the viscera. The bronchial vessels are\ncontracted--the bloodvessels and tendons in many parts of the body are\nmore or less ossified, and even the hair of the head possesses a\ncrispness which renders it less valuable to wig-makers than the hair of\nsober people.\n\nNot less destructive are the effects of ardent spirits upon the human\nmind. They impair the memory, debilitate the understanding, and pervert\nthe moral faculties. It was probably from observing these effects of\nintemperance in drinking upon the mind, that a law was formerly passed\nin Spain which excluded drunkards from being witnesses in a court of\njustice. But the demoralizing effects of distilled spirits do not stop\nhere. They produce not only falsehood, but fraud, theft, uncleanliness,\nand murder. Like the demoniac mentioned in the New Testament, their name\nis \"Legion,\" for they convey into the soul a host of vices and crimes.\n\nA more affecting spectacle cannot be exhibited than a person into whom\nthis infernal spirit, generated by habits of intemperance, has entered:\nit is more or less affecting, according to the station the person fills\nin a family, or in society, who is possessed by it. Is he a husband? How\ndeep the anguish which rends the bosom of his wife! Is she a wife? Who\ncan measure the shame and aversion which she excites in her husband? Is\nhe the father, or is she the mother of a family of children? See their\naverted looks from their parent, and their blushing looks at each other.\nIs he a magistrate? or has he been chosen to fill a high and respectable\nstation in the councils of his country? What humiliating fears of\ncorruption in the administration of the laws, and of the subversion of\npublic order and happiness, appear in the countenances of all who see\nhim. Is he a minister of the gospel? Here language fails me. If angels\nweep, it is at such a sight.\n\nIn pointing out the evils produced by ardent spirits, let us not pass by\ntheir effects upon the estates of the persons who are addicted to them.\nAre they inhabitants of cities? Behold their houses stripped gradually\nof their furniture, and pawned, or sold by a constable, to pay tavern\ndebts. See their names upon record in the dockets of every court, and\nwhole pages of newspapers filled with advertisements of their estates\nfor public sale. Are they inhabitants of country places? Behold their\nhouses with shattered windows--their barns with leaky roofs--their\ngardens overrun with weeds--their fields with broken fences--their hogs\nwithout yokes--their sheep without wool--their cattle and horses without\nfat--and their children, filthy and half-clad, without manners,\nprinciples, and morals. This picture of agricultural wretchedness is\nseldom of long duration. The farms and property thus neglected and\ndepreciated, are seized and sold for the benefit of a group of\ncreditors. The children that were born with the prospect of inheriting\nthem, are bound out to service in the neighborhood; while their parents,\nthe unworthy authors of their misfortunes, ramble into new and distant\nsettlements, alternately fed on their way by the hand of charity, or a\nlittle casual labor.\n\nThus we see poverty and misery, crimes and infamy, diseases and death,\nare all the natural and usual consequences of the intemperate use of\nardent spirits.\n\nI have classed death among the consequences of hard drinking. But it is\nnot death from the immediate hand of the Deity, nor from any of the\ninstruments of it which were created by him: it is death from _suicide_.\nYes, thou poor degraded creature who art daily lifting the poisoned bowl\nto thy lips, cease to avoid the unhallowed ground in which the\nself-murderer is interred, and wonder no longer that the sun should\nshine, and the rain fall, and the grass look green upon his grave.\n_Thou_ art perpetrating gradually, by the use of ardent spirits, what he\nhas effected suddenly by opium or a halter. Considering how many\ncircumstances from surprise, or derangement, may palliate his guilt, or\nthat, unlike yours, it was not preceded and accompanied by any other\ncrime, it is probable his condemnation will be less than yours at the\nday of judgment.\n\nI shall now take notice of the occasions and circumstances which are\nsupposed to render the use of ardent spirits necessary, and endeavor to\nshow that the arguments in favor of their use in such cases are founded\nin error, and that in each of them ardent spirits, instead of affording\nstrength to the body, increase the evils they are intended to relieve.\n\n1. They are said to be necessary in very cold weather. This is far from\nbeing true, for the temporary warmth they produce is always succeeded by\na greater disposition in the body to be affected by cold. Warm dresses,\na plentiful meal just before exposure to the cold, and eating\noccasionally a little gingerbread, or any other cordial food, is a much\nmore durable method of preserving the heat of the body in cold weather.\n\n2. They are said to be necessary in very warm weather. Experience proves\nthat they increase, instead of lessening the effects of heat upon the\nbody, and thereby dispose to diseases of all kinds. Even in the warm\nclimate of the West Indies, Dr. Bell asserts this to be true. \"Rum,\"\nsays this author, \"whether used habitually, moderately, or in excessive\nquantities, in the West Indies, always diminishes the strength of the\nbody, and renders men more susceptible of disease, and unfit for any\nservice in which vigor or activity is required.\"[A] As well might we\nthrow oil into a house, the roof of which was on fire, in order to\nprevent the flames from extending to its inside, as pour ardent spirits\ninto the stomach to lessen the effects of a hot sun upon the skin.\n\n3. Nor do ardent spirits lessen the effects of hard labor upon the body.\nLook at the horse, with every muscle of his body swelled from morning\ntill night in the plough, or a team; does he make signs for a draught of\ntoddy, or a glass of spirits, to enable him to cleave the ground, or to\nclimb a hill? No; he requires nothing but cool water and substantial\nfood. There is no nourishment in ardent spirits. The strength they\nproduce in labor is of a transient nature, and is always followed by a\nsense of weakness and fatigue.\n\n\nDANGER FROM ARDENT SPIRITS.\n\nEvery man is in danger of becoming a drunkard who is in the habit of\ndrinking ardent spirits--1. When he is warm. 2. When he is cold. 3. When\nhe is wet. 4. When he is dry. 5. When he is dull. 6. When he is lively.\n7. When he travels. 8. When he is at home. 9. When he is in company. 10.\nWhen he is alone. 11. When he is at work. 12. When he is idle. 13.\nBefore meals. 14. After meals. 15. When he gets up. 16. When he goes to\nbed. 17. On holidays. 18. On public occasions. 19. On any day; or, 20.\nOn any occasion.\n\n   [Footnote A: See his \"Inquiry into the Causes which Produce,\n   and the Means of Preventing Diseases among British Officers,\n   Soldiers, and others, in the West Indies.\"]\n\n\n\n\nON THE\nTRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRIT.\n\n\nArdent spirit is composed of alcohol and water, in nearly equal\nproportions. Alcohol is composed of hydrogen, carbon, and oxygen, in the\nproportion of about fourteen, fifty-two, and thirty-four parts to the\nhundred. It is, in its nature, as manifested by its effects, a _poison_.\nWhen taken in any quantity it disturbs healthy action in the human\nsystem, and in large doses suddenly destroys life. It resembles opium in\nits nature, and arsenic in its effects. And though when mixed with\nwater, as in ardent spirit, its evils are somewhat modified, they are by\nno means prevented. Ardent spirit is an enemy to the human constitution,\nand cannot be used as a drink without injury. Its ultimate tendency\ninvariably is, to produce weakness, not strength; sickness, not health;\ndeath, not life.\n\nConsequently, to use it is an immorality. It is a violation of the will\nof God, and a sin in magnitude equal to all the evils, temporal and\neternal, which flow from it. Nor can the furnishing of ardent spirit for\nthe use of others be accounted a less sin, inasmuch as this tends to\nproduce evils greater than for an individual merely to drink it. And if\na man knows, or has the opportunity of knowing, the nature and effects\nof the traffic in this article, and yet continues to be engaged in it,\nhe may justly be regarded as an immoral man; and for the following\nreasons, viz.\n\nArdent spirit, as a drink, is _not needful_. All men lived without it,\nand all the business of the world was conducted without it, for\nthousands of years. It is not three hundred years since it began to be\ngenerally used as a drink in Great Britain, nor one hundred years since\nit became common in America. Of course it is not needful.\n\nIt is _not useful_. Those who do not use it are, other things being\nequal, in all respects better than those who do. Nor does the fact that\npersons have used it with more or less frequency, in a greater or\nsmaller quantity, for a longer or shorter time, render it either\nneedful, or useful, or harmless, or right for them to continue to use\nit. More than a million of persons in this country, and multitudes in\nother countries, who once did use it, and thought it needful, have,\nwithin five years, ceased to use it, and they have found that they are\nin all respects better without it. And this number is so great, of all\nages, and conditions, and employments, as to render it certain, should\nthe experiment be fairly made, that this would be the case with all. Of\ncourse, ardent spirit, as a drink, is not useful.\n\nIt is _hurtful_. Its whole influence is injurious to the body and the\nmind for this world and the world to come.\n\n1. It forms an _unnecessary, artificial, and very dangerous appetite_;\nwhich, by gratification, like the desire for sinning, in the man who\nsins, tends continually to increase. No man can form this appetite\nwithout increasing his danger of dying a drunkard, and exerting an\ninfluence which tends to perpetuate drunkenness, and all its\nabominations, to the end of the world. Its very formation, therefore, is\na violation of the will of God. It is, in its nature, an immorality, and\nsprings from an inordinate desire of a kind or degree of bodily\nenjoyment--animal gratification, which God has shown to be inconsistent\nwith his glory, and the highest good of man. It shows that the person\nwho forms it is not satisfied with the proper gratification of those\nappetites and passions which God has given him, or with that kind and\ndegree of bodily enjoyment which infinite wisdom and goodness have\nprescribed as the utmost that can be possessed consistently with a\nperson's highest happiness and usefulness, the glory of his Maker, and\nthe good of the universe. That person covets more animal enjoyment; to\nobtain it he forms a new appetite, and in doing this he rebels against\nGod.\n\nThat desire for increased animal enjoyment from which rebellion springs\nis sin, and all the evils which follow in its train are only so many\nvoices by which Jehovah declares \"the way of transgressors is hard.\" The\nperson who has formed an appetite for ardent spirit, and feels uneasy if\nhe does not gratify it, has violated the divine arrangement, disregarded\nthe divine will, and if he understands the nature of what he has done,\nand approves of it, and continues in it, it will ruin him. He will show\nthat there is one thing in which he will not have God to reign over him.\nAnd should he keep the whole law, and yet continue knowingly,\nhabitually, wilfully, and perseveringly to offend in that one point, he\nwill perish. Then, and then only, according to the Bible, can any man be\nsaved, when he has respect to all the known will of God, and is disposed\nto be governed by it. He must carry out into practice, with regard to\nthe body and the soul, \"Not my will, but thine be done.\" His grand\nobject must be, to know the will of God, and when he knows it, to be\ngoverned by it, and with regard to all things. This, the man who is not\ncontented with that portion of animal enjoyment which the proper\ngratification of the appetites and passions which God has given him will\nafford, but forms an appetite for ardent spirit, or continues to gratify\nit after it is formed, does not do. In this respect, if he understands\nthe nature and effects of his actions, he prefers his own will to the\nknown will of God, and is ripening to hear, from the lips of his Judge,\n\"Those mine enemies, that would not that I should _reign_ over them,\nbring them hither and slay them before me.\" And the men who traffic in\nthis article, or furnish it as a drink for others, are tempting them to\nsin, and thus uniting their influence with that of the devil for ever to\nruin them. This is an aggravated immorality, and the men who continue to\ndo it are immoral men.\n\n2. The use of ardent spirit, to which the traffic is accessory, causes a\ngreat and wicked _waste of property_. All that the users pay for this\narticle is to them lost, and worse than lost. Should the whole which\nthey use sink into the earth, or mingle with the ocean, it would be\nbetter for them, and better for the community, than for them to drink\nit. All which it takes to support the paupers, and prosecute the crimes\nwhich ardent spirit occasions, is, to those who pay the money, utterly\nlost. All the diminution of profitable labor which it occasions, through\nimprovidence, idleness, dissipation, intemperance, sickness, insanity,\nand premature deaths, is to the community so much utterly lost. And\nthese items, as has often been shown, amount in the United States to\nmore than $100,000,000 a year. To this enormous and wicked waste of\nproperty, those who traffic in the article are knowingly accessory.\n\nA portion of what is thus lost by others, they obtain themselves; but\nwithout rendering to others any valuable equivalent. This renders their\nbusiness palpably unjust; as really so as if they should obtain that\nmoney by gambling; and it is as really immoral. It is also unjust in\nanother respect: it burdens the community with taxes both for the\nsupport of pauperism, and for the prosecution of crimes, and without\nrendering to that community any adequate compensation. These taxes, as\nshown by facts, are four times as great as they would be if there were\nno sellers of ardent spirit. All the profits, with the exception perhaps\nof a mere pittance which he pays for license, the seller puts into his\nown pocket, while the burdens are thrown upon the community. This is\npalpably unjust, and utterly immoral. Of 1,969 paupers in different\nalmshouses in the United States, 1,790, according to the testimony of\nthe overseers of the poor, were made such by spirituous liquor. And of\n1,764 criminals in different prisons, more than 1,300 were either\nintemperate men, or were under the power of intoxicating liquor when the\ncrimes for which they were imprisoned were committed. And of 44 murders,\naccording to the testimony of those who prosecuted or conducted the\ndefence of the murderers, or witnessed their trials, 43 were committed\nby intemperate men, or upon intemperate men, or those who at the time of\nthe murder were under the power of strong drink.\n\nThe Hon. Felix Grundy, United States senator from Tennessee, after\nthirty years' extensive practice as a lawyer, gives it as his opinion\nthat four-fifths of all the crimes committed in the United States can be\ntraced to intemperance. A similar proportion is stated, from the highest\nauthority, to result from the same cause in Great Britain. And when it\nis considered that more than 200 murders are committed, and more than\n100,000 crimes are prosecuted in the United States in a year, and that\nsuch a vast proportion of them are occasioned by ardent spirit, can a\ndoubt remain on the mind of any sober man, that the men who know these\nfacts, and yet continue to traffic in this article, are among the chief\ncauses of crime, and ought to be viewed and treated as immoral men? It\nis as really immoral for a man, by doing wrong, to excite others to\ncommit crimes, as to commit them himself; and as really unjust\nwrongfully to take another's property with his consent, as without it.\nAnd though it might not be desirable to have such a law, yet no law in\nthe statute-book is more righteous than one which should require that\nthose who make paupers should support them, and those who excite others\nto commit crimes, should pay the cost of their prosecution, and should,\nwith those who commit them, bear all the evils. And so long as this is\nnot the case they will be guilty, according to the divine law, of\ndefrauding, as well as tempting and corrupting their fellow-men. And\nthough such crimes cannot be prosecuted, and justice be awarded in human\ncourts, their perpetrators will be held to answer, and will meet with\nfull and awful retribution at the divine tribunal. And when judgment is\nlaid to the line, and righteousness to the plummet, they will appear as\nthey really are, criminals, and will be viewed and treated as such for\never.\n\nThere is another view in which the traffic in ardent spirit is\nmanifestly highly immoral. It exposes the children of those who use it,\nin an eminent degree, to dissipation and crime. Of 690 children\nprosecuted and imprisoned for crimes, more than 400 were from\nintemperate families. Thus the venders of this liquor exert an influence\nwhich tends strongly to ruin not only those who use it, but their\nchildren; to render them far more liable to idleness, profligacy, and\nruin, than the children of those who do not use it; and through them to\nextend these evils to others, and to perpetuate them to future\ngenerations. This is a sin of which all who traffic in ardent spirit are\nguilty. Often the deepest pang which a dying parent feels for his\nchildren, is lest, through the instrumentality of such men, they should\nbe ruined. And is it not horrible wickedness for them, by exposing for\nsale one of the chief causes of this ruin, to tempt them in the way to\ndeath? If he who takes money from others without an equivalent, or\nwickedly destroys property, is an immoral man, what is he who destroys\ncharacter, who corrupts children and youth, and exerts an influence to\nextend and perpetuate immorality and crime through future generations?\nThis every vender of ardent spirit does; and if he continues in this\nbusiness with a knowledge of the subject, it marks him as an habitual\nand persevering violater of the will of God.\n\n3. Ardent spirit _impairs_, and often _destroys reason_. Of 781 maniacs\nin different insane hospitals, 392, according to the testimony of their\nown friends, were rendered maniacs by strong drink. And the physicians\nwho had the care of them gave it as their opinion, that this was the\ncase with many of the others. Those who have had extensive experience,\nand the best opportunities for observation with regard to this malady,\nhave stated, that probably from one-half to three-fourths of the cases\nof insanity, in many places, are occasioned in the same way. Ardent\nspirit is a poison so diffusive and subtile that it is found, by actual\nexperiment, to penetrate even the brain.\n\nDr. Kirk, of Scotland, dissected a man a few hours after death who died\nin a fit of intoxication; and from the lateral ventricles of the brain\nhe took a fluid distinctly visible to the smell as whiskey; and when he\napplied a candle to it in a spoon, it took fire and burnt blue; \"the\nlambent blue flame,\" he says, \"characteristic of the poison, playing on\nthe surface of the spoon for some seconds.\"\n\nIt produces also, in the children of those who use it freely, a\npredisposition to intemperance, insanity, and various diseases of both\nbody and mind, which, if the cause is continued, becomes hereditary, and\nis transmitted from generation to generation; occasioning a diminution\nof size, strength, and energy, a feebleness of vision, a feebleness and\nimbecility of purpose, an obtuseness of intellect, a depravation of\nmoral taste, a premature old age, and a general deterioration of the\nwhole character. This is the case in every country, and in every age.\n\nInstances are known where the first children of a family, who were born\nwhen their parents were temperate, have been healthy, intelligent, and\nactive; while the last children, who were born after the parents had\nbecome intemperate, were dwarfish and idiotic. A medical gentleman\nwrites, \"I have no doubt that a disposition to nervous diseases of a\npeculiar character is transmitted by drunken parents.\" Another gentleman\nstates that, in two families within his knowledge, the different stages\nof intemperance in the parents seemed to be marked by a corresponding\ndeterioration in the bodies and minds of the children. In one case, the\neldest of the family is respectable, industrious, and accumulates\nproperty; the next is inferior, disposed to be industrious, but spends\nall he can earn in strong drink. The third is dwarfish in body and mind,\nand, to use his own language, \"a poor, miserable remnant of a man.\"\n\nIn another family of daughters, the first is a smart, active girl, with\nan intelligent, well-balanced mind; the others are afflicted with\ndifferent degrees of mental weakness and imbecility, and the youngest is\nan idiot. Another medical gentleman states, that the first child of a\nfamily, who was born when the habits of the mother were good, was\nhealthy and promising; while the four last children, who were born after\nthe mother had become addicted to the habit of using opium, appeared to\nbe stupid; and all, at about the same age, sickened and died of a\ndisease apparently occasioned by the habits of the mother.\n\nAnother gentleman mentions a case more common, and more appalling still.\nA respectable and influential man early in life adopted the habit of\nusing a little ardent spirit daily, because, as he thought, it did him\ngood. He and his six children, three sons and three daughters, are now\nin the drunkard's grave, and the only surviving child is rapidly\nfollowing in the same way, to the same dismal end.\n\nThe best authorities attribute one-half the madness, three-fourths of\nthe pauperism, end four-fifths of the crimes and wretchedness in Great\nBritain to the use of strong drink.\n\n4. Ardent spirit increases the number, frequency, and violence of\n_diseases_, and tends to bring those who use it to a premature grave. In\nPortsmouth, New Hampshire, of about 7,500 people, twenty-one persons\nwere killed by it in a year. In Salem, Massachusetts, of 181 deaths,\ntwenty were occasioned in the same way. Of ninety-one adults who died in\nNew Haven, Connecticut, in one year, thirty-two, according to the\ntestimony of the Medical Association, were occasioned, directly or\nindirectly, by strong drink, and a similar proportion had been\noccasioned by it in previous years. In New Brunswick, New Jersey, of\nsixty-seven adult deaths in one year, more than one-third were caused by\nintoxicating liquor. In Philadelphia, of 4,292 deaths, 700 were, in the\nopinion of the College of Physicians and Surgeons, caused in the same\nway. The physicians of Annapolis, Maryland, state that, of thirty-two\npersons, male and female, who died in 1828, above eighteen years of age,\nten, or nearly one-third, died of diseases occasioned by intemperance;\nthat eighteen were males, and that of these, nine, or one-half, died of\nintemperance. They also say, \"When we recollect that even the temperate\nuse, as it is called, of ardent spirits, lays the foundation of a\nnumerous train of incurable maladies, we feel justified in expressing\nthe belief, that were the use of distilled liquors entirely\ndiscontinued, the number of deaths among the male adults would be\ndiminished at least one-half.\"\n\nSays an eminent physician, \"Since our people generally have given up the\nuse of spirit, they have not had more than half as much sickness as they\nhad before; and I have no doubt, should all the people of the United\nStates cease to use it, that nearly half the sickness of the country\nwould cease.\" Says another, after forty years' extensive practice, \"Half\nthe men every year who die of fevers might recover, had they not been in\nthe habit of using ardent spirit. Many a man, down for weeks with a\nfever, had he not used ardent spirit, would not have been confined to\nhis house a day. He might have felt a slight headache, but a little\nfasting would have removed the difficulty, and the man been well. And\nmany a man who was never intoxicated, when visited with a fever, might\nbe raised up as well as not, were it not for that state of the system\nwhich daily moderate drinking occasions, who now, in spite of all that\ncan be done, sinks down and dies.\"\n\nNor are we to admit for a moment the popular reasoning, as applicable\nhere, \"that the abuse of a thing is no argument against its use;\" for,\nin the language of the late Secretary of the College of Physicians and\nSurgeons of Philadelphia, Samuel Emlen, M. D., \"All use of ardent\nspirits,\" _i. e._ as a drink, \"is an abuse. They are mischievous under\nall circumstances.\" Their tendency, says Dr. Frank, when used even\nmoderately, is to induce disease, premature old age, and death. And Dr.\nTrotter states, that no cause of disease has so wide a range, or so\nlarge a share, as the use of spirituous liquors.\n\nDr. Harris states, that the _moderate_ use of spirituous liquors has\ndestroyed many who were never drunk; and Dr. Kirk gives it as his\nopinion, that men who were never considered intemperate, by daily\ndrinking have often shortened life more than twenty years; and that the\nrespectable use of this poison kills more men than even drunkenness. Dr.\nWilson gives it as his opinion, that the use of spirit in large cities\ncauses more diseases than confined air, unwholesome exhalations, and the\ncombined influence of all other evils.\n\nDr. Cheyne, of Dublin, Ireland, after thirty years' practice and\nobservation, gives it as his opinion, that should ten young men begin at\ntwenty-one years of age to use but one glass of two ounces a day, and\nnever increase the quantity, nine out of ten would shorten life more\nthan ten years. But should moderate drinkers shorten life only five\nyears, and drunkards only ten, and should there be but four moderate\ndrinkers to one drunkard, it would in thirty years cut off in the United\nStates 32,400,000 years of human life. An aged physician in Maryland\nstates, that when the fever breaks out there, the men who do not use\nardent spirit are not half as likely as other men to have it; and that\nif they do have it, they are ten times as likely to recover. In the\nisland of Key West, on the coast of Florida, after a great mortality, it\nwas found that every person who had died had been in the habit of using\nardent spirit. The quantity used was afterwards diminished more than\nnine-tenths, and the inhabitants became remarkably healthy.\n\nA gentleman of great respectability from the south, states, that those\nwho fall victims to southern climes, are almost invariably addicted to\nthe free use of ardent spirit. Dr. Mosely, after a long residence in the\nWest Indies, declares, \"that persons who drink nothing but cold water,\nor make it their principal drink, are but little affected by tropical\nclimates; that they undergo the greatest fatigue without inconvenience,\nand are not so subject as others to dangerous diseases;\" and Dr. Bell,\n\"that rum, when used even moderately, always diminishes the strength,\nand renders men more susceptible of disease; and that we might as well\nthrow oil into a house, the roof of which is on fire, in order to\nprevent the flames from extending to the inside, as to pour ardent\nspirits into the stomach to prevent the effect of a hot sun upon the\nskin.\"\n\nOf seventy-seven persons found dead in different regions of country,\nsixty-seven, according to the coroners' inquests, were occasioned by\nstrong drink. Nine-tenths of those who die suddenly after the drinking\nof cold water, have been habitually addicted to the free use of ardent\nspirit; and that draught of cold water, that effort, or fatigue, or\nexposure to the sun, or disease, which a man who uses no ardent spirit\nwill bear without inconvenience or danger, will often kill those who use\nit. Their liability to sickness and to death is often increased tenfold.\nAnd to all these evils, those who continue to traffic in it, after all\nthe light which God in his providence has thrown upon the subject, are\nknowingly accessory. Whether they deal in it by whole sale or retail, by\nthe cargo or the glass, they are, in their influence, drunkard-makers.\nSo are also those who furnish the materials; those who advertise the\nliquors, and thus promote their circulation; those who lease their\ntenements to be employed as dram-shops, or stores for the sale of ardent\nspirit; and those also who purchase their groceries of spirit dealers\nrather than of others, for the purpose of saving to the amount which the\nsale of ardent spirit enables such men, without loss, to undersell their\nneighbors. These are all accessory to the making of drunkards, and as\nsuch will be held to answer at the divine tribunal. So are those men who\nemploy their shipping in transporting the liquors, or are in any way\nknowingly aiding and abetting in perpetuating their use as a drink in\nthe community.\n\nIt is estimated that four-fifths of those who were swept away by the\nlate direful visitation of CHOLERA, were such as had been addicted to\nthe use of intoxicating drink. Dr. Bronson, of Albany, who spent some\ntime in Canada, and whose professional character and standing give great\nweight to his opinions, says, \"Intemperance of any species, but\nparticularly intemperance in the use of _distilled liquors_, has been a\nmore productive cause of cholera than any other, and indeed than all\nothers.\" And can men, for the sake of money, make it a business\nknowingly and perseveringly to furnish the most productive cause of\ncholera, and not be guilty of _blood_--not manifest a recklessness of\ncharacter which will brand the mark of vice and infamy on their\nforeheads? \"Drunkards and tipplers,\" he adds, \"have been searched out\nwith such unerring certainty as to show that the arrows of death have\nnot been dealt out with indiscrimination. An indescribable terror has\nspread through the ranks of this class of beings. They see the bolts of\ndestruction aimed at their heads, and every one calls himself a victim.\nThere seems to be a natural affinity between cholera and ardent\nspirit.\" What, then, in days of exposure to this malady, is so great a\nnuisance as the places which furnish this poison? Says Dr. Rhinelander,\nwho, with Dr. De Kay, was deputed from New York to visit Canada, \"We may\nbe asked who are the victims of this disease? I answer, the intemperate\nit invariably cuts off.\" In Montreal, after 1,200 had been attacked, a\nMontreal paper states, that \"not a drunkard who has been attacked has\nrecovered of the disease, and almost all the victims have been at least\n_moderate_ drinkers.\" In Paris, the 30,000 victims were, with few\nexceptions, those who freely used intoxicating liquors. Nine-tenths of\nthose who died of the cholera in Poland were of the same class.\n\nIn St. Petersburgh and Moscow, the average number of deaths in the bills\nof mortality, during the prevalence of the cholera, when the people\nceased to drink brandy, was no greater than when they used it during the\nusual months of health--showing that brandy, and attendant dissipation,\nkilled as many people in the same time as even the cholera itself, that\npestilence which has spread sackcloth over the nations. And shall the\nmen who know this, and yet continue to furnish it for all who can be\ninduced to buy, escape the execration of being the destroyers of their\nrace? Of more than 1,000 deaths in Montreal, it is stated that only two\nwere members of Temperance societies. It was also stated, that as far as\nwas known no members of Temperance societies in Ireland, Scotland, or\nEngland, had yet fallen victims to that dreadful disease.\n\nFrom Montreal, Dr. Bronson writes, \"Cholera has stood up here, as it has\ndone everywhere, the advocate of Temperance. It has pleaded most\neloquently, and with tremendous effect. The disease has searched out the\nhaunt of the drunkard, and has seldom left it without bearing away its\nvictim. Even _moderate_ drinkers have been but little better off. Ardent\nspirits, in any shape, and in all quantities, have been _highly_\ndetrimental. Some temperate men resorted to them during the prevalence\nof the malady as a preventive, or to remove the feeling of uneasiness\nabout the stomach, or for the purpose of drowning their apprehensions,\nbut they did it at their peril.\"\n\nSays the London Morning Herald, after stating that the cholera fastens\nits deadly grasp upon this class of men, \"The same preference for the\nintemperate and uncleanly has characterized the cholera _everywhere_.\nIntemperance is a qualification which it never overlooks. Often has it\npassed harmless over a wide population of temperate country people, and\npoured down, as an overflowing scourge, upon the drunkards of some\ndistant town.\" Says another English publication, \"All experience, both\nin Great Britain and elsewhere, has proved that those who have been\naddicted to drinking spirituous liquors, and indulging in irregular\nhabits, have been the greatest sufferers from cholera. In some towns the\ndrunkards are all dead.\" Rammohun Fingee, the famous Indian doctor,\nsays, with regard to India, that people who do not take opium, or\nspirits, do not take this disorder even when they are with those who\nhave it. Monsieur Huber, who saw 2,160 persons perish in twenty-five\ndays in one town in Russia, says, \"It is a most remarkable circumstance,\nthat persons given to drinking have been swept away like flies. In\nTiflis, containing 20,000 inhabitants, every drunkard has fallen--all\nare dead, not one remains.\"\n\nDr. Sewall, of Washington city, in a letter from New York, states, that\nof 204 cases of cholera in the Park hospital, there were only six\ntemperate persons, and that those had recovered; while 122 of the\nothers, when he wrote, had died; and that the facts were similar in all\nthe other hospitals.\n\nIn Albany, a careful examination was made by respectable gentlemen into\nthe cases of those who died of the cholera in that city in 1832, over\nsixteen years of age. The result was examined in detail by nine\nphysicians, members of the medical staff attached to the board of health\nin that city--all who belong to it, except two, who were at that time\nabsent--and published at their request under the signature of the\nChancellor of the State, and the five distinguished gentlemen who\ncompose the Executive Committee of the New York State Temperance\nSociety, and is as follows: number of deaths, 366; viz. intemperate,\n140; free drinkers, 55; moderate drinkers, mostly habitual, 131;\nstrictly temperate, who drank no ardent spirits, 5; members of\nTemperance societies, 2; and when it is recollected that of more than\n5,000 members of Temperance societies in the city of Albany, only two,\nnot one in 2,500, fell by this disease, while it cut off more than one\nin fifty of the inhabitants of that city, we cannot but feel that men\nwho furnish ardent spirit as a drink for their fellow-men, are\nmanifestly inviting the ravages, and preparing the victims of this fatal\nmalady, and of numerous other mortal diseases; and when inquisition is\nmade for blood, and the effects of their employment are examined for the\npurpose of rendering to them according to their work, they will be\nfound, should they continue, to be guilty of knowingly destroying their\nfellow-men.\n\nWhat right have men, by selling ardent spirit, to increase the danger,\nextend the ravages, and augment and perpetuate the malignancy of the\ncholera, and multiply upon the community numerous other mortal diseases?\nWho cannot see that it is a foul, deep, and fatal injury inflicted on\nsociety? that it is in a high degree cruel and unjust? that it scatters\nthe population of our cities, renders our business stagnant, and exposes\nour sons and our daughters to premature and sudden death? So manifestly\nis this the case, that the board of health of the city of Washington, on\nthe approach of the cholera, declared the vending of ardent spirit, _in\nany quantity_, to be a _nuisance_; and, as such, ordered that it be\ndiscontinued for the space of ninety days. This was done in\nself-defence, to save the community from the sickness and death which\nthe vending of spirit is adapted to occasion. Nor is this tendency to\noccasion disease and death confined to the time when the cholera is\nraging.\n\nBy the statement of the physicians in Annapolis, Maryland, it appears\nthat the average number of deaths by intemperance for several years, has\nbeen one to every 329 inhabitants; which would make in the United States\n40,000 in a year. And it is the opinion of physicians, that as many more\ndie of diseases which are induced, or aggravated, and rendered mortal by\nthe use of ardent spirit. And to those results, all who make it, sell\nit, or use it, are accessory.\n\nIt is a principle in law, that the perpetrator of crime, and the\naccessory to it, are both guilty, and deserving of punishment. Men have\nbeen brought to the gallows on this principle. It applies to the law of\nGod. And as the drunkard cannot go to heaven, can drunkard-makers? Are\nthey not, when tried by the principles of the Bible, in view of the\ndevelopments of Providence, manifestly immoral men? men who, for the\nsake of money, will knowingly be instrumental in corrupting the\ncharacter, increasing the diseases, and destroying the lives of their\nfellow-men?\n\n\"But,\" says one, \"I never sell to drunkards; I sell only to sober men.\"\nAnd is that any better? Is it a less evil to the community to make\ndrunkards of sober men than it is to kill drunkards? Ask that widowed\nmother who did her the greatest evil: the man who only killed her\ndrunken husband, or the man who made a drunkard of her only son? Ask\nthose orphan children who did them the greatest injury: the man who made\ntheir once sober, kind, and affectionate father a drunkard, and thus\nblasted all their hopes, and turned their home, sweet home, into the\nemblem of hell; or the man who, after they had suffered for years the\nanguish, the indescribable anguish of the drunkard's children, and seen\ntheir heart-broken mother in danger of an untimely grave, only killed\ntheir drunken father, and thus caused in their habitation a great calm?\nWhich of these two men brought upon them the greatest evil? Can you\ndoubt? You, then, do nothing but make drunkards of sober men, or expose\nthem to become such. Suppose that all the evils which you may be\ninstrumental in bringing upon other children, were to come upon your\nown, and that _you_ were to bear all the anguish which you may occasion;\nwould you have any doubt that the man who would knowingly continue to be\naccessory to the bringing of these evils upon you, must be a notoriously\nwicked man?\n\n5. Ardent spirit destroys the _soul_.\n\nFacts in great numbers are now before the public, which show\nconclusively that the use of ardent spirit tends strongly to hinder the\nmoral and spiritual illumination and purification of men; and thus to\nprevent their salvation, and bring upon them the horrors of the second\ndeath.\n\nA disease more dreadful than the cholera, or any other that kills the\nbody merely, is raging, and is universal, threatening the endless death\nof the soul. A remedy is provided all-sufficient, and infinitely\nefficacious; but the use of ardent spirit aggravates the disease, and\nwith millions and millions prevents the application of the remedy and\nits effect.\n\nIt appears from the fifth report of the American Temperance Society,\nthat more than four times as many, in proportion to the number, over\nwide regions of country, during the preceding year, have apparently\nembraced the gospel, and experienced its saving power, from among those\nwho had renounced the use of ardent spirit, as from those who continued\nto use it.\n\nThe committee of the New York State Temperance Society, in view of the\npeculiar and unprecedented attention to religion which followed the\nadoption of the plan of abstinence from the use of strong drink, remark,\nthat when this course is taken, the greatest enemy to the work of the\nHoly Spirit on the minds and hearts of men, appears to be more than half\nconquered.\n\nIn three hundred towns, six-tenths of those who two years ago belonged\nto Temperance societies, but were not hopefully pious, have since become\nso; and eight-tenths of those who have within that time become hopefully\npious, who did not belong to Temperance societies, have since joined\nthem. In numerous places, where only a minority of the people abstained\nfrom the use of ardent spirit, nine-tenths of those who have of late\nprofessed the religion of Christ, have been from that minority. This is\noccasioned in various ways. The use of ardent spirit keeps many away\nfrom the house of God, and thus prevents them from coming under the\nsound of the gospel. And many who do come, it causes to continue stupid,\nworldly-minded, and unholy. A single glass a day is enough to keep\nmultitudes of men, under the full blaze of the gospel, from ever\nexperiencing its illuminating and purifying power. Even if they come to\nthe light, and it shines upon them, it shines upon darkness, and the\ndarkness does not comprehend it; while multitudes who thus do evil will\nnot come to the light, lest their deeds should be reproved. There is a\ntotal contrariety between the effect produced by the Holy Spirit, and\nthe effect of spirituous liquor upon the minds and hearts of men. The\nlatter tends directly and powerfully to counteract the former. It tends\nto make men feel in a manner which Jesus Christ hates, rich spiritually,\nincreased in goods, and in need of nothing; while it tends for ever to\nprevent them from feeling, as sinners must feel, to buy of him gold\ntried in the fire, that they may be rich. Those who use it, therefore,\nare taking the direct course to destroy their own souls; and those who\nfurnish it, are taking the course to destroy the souls of their\nfellow-men.\n\nIn one town, more than twenty times as many, in proportion to the\nnumber, professed the religion of Christ during the past year, of those\nwho did not use ardent spirit, as of those who did; and in another town\nmore than thirty times as many. In other towns, in which from one-third\nto two-thirds of the people did not use it, and from twenty to forty\nmade a profession of religion, they were all from the same class. What,\nthen, are those men doing who furnish it, but taking the course which is\nadapted to keep men stupid in sin till they sink into the agonies of the\nsecond death? And is not this an immorality of a high and aggravated\ndescription? and one which ought to mark every man who understands its\nnature and effects, and yet continues to live in it, as a notoriously\nimmoral man? What though he does not live in other immoralities--is not\nthis enough? Suppose he should manufacture poisonous miasma, and cause\nthe cholera in our dwellings; sell, knowingly, the cause of disease, and\nincrease more than one-fifth over wide regions of country the number of\nadult deaths, would he not be a murderer? \"I know,\" says the learned\nJudge Crunch, \"that the cup\" which contains ardent spirit \"is poisoned;\nI know that it may cause death, that it may cause more than death, that\nit may lead to crime, to sin, to the tortures of everlasting remorse. Am\nI not, then, a murderer? worse than a murderer? as much worse as the\nsoul is better than the body? If ardent spirits were nothing worse than\na deadly poison--if they did not excite and inflame all the evil\npassions--if they did not dim that heavenly light which the Almighty has\nimplanted in our bosoms to guide us through the obscure passages of our\npilgrimage--if they did not quench the Holy Spirit in our hearts, they\nwould be comparatively harmless. It is their moral effect--it is the\nruin of the _soul_ which they produce, that renders them so dreadful.\nThe difference between death by simple poison, and death by habitual\nintoxication, may extend to the whole difference between everlasting\nhappiness and eternal death.\"\n\nAnd, say the New York State Society, at the head of which is the\nChancellor of the State, \"Disguise that business as they will, it is\nstill, in its true character, the business of destroying the bodies and\nsouls of men. The vender and the maker of spirits, in the whole range of\nthem, from the pettiest grocer to the most extensive distiller, are\nfairly chargeable, not only with _supplying_ the appetite for spirits,\nbut with _creating_ that unnatural appetite; not only with supplying the\ndrunkard with the fuel of his vices, but with _making_ the drunkard.\n\n\"In reference to the taxes with which the making and vending of spirits\nloads the community, how unfair towards others is the occupation of the\nmaker and vender of them! A town, for instance, contains one hundred\ndrunkards. The profit of making these drunkards is enjoyed by some half\na dozen persons; but the burden of these drunkards rests upon the whole\ntown. We do not suggest that there should be such a law, but we ask\nwhether there would be one law in the whole statute-book more\n_righteous_ than that which should require those who have the profit of\nmaking our drunkards to be burdened with the support of them.\"\n\nMultitudes who once cherished the fond anticipation of happiness in this\nlife and that to come, there is reason to believe, are now wailing\nbeyond the reach of hope, through the influence of ardent spirit; and\nmultitudes more, if men continue to furnish it as a drink, especially\nsober men, will go down to weep and wail with them to endless ages.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\"But,\" says one, \"the traffic in ardent spirit is a lawful business; it\nis approbated by law, and is therefore right.\" But the keeping of\ngambling houses is, in some cases, approbated by human law. Is that\ntherefore right? The keeping of brothels is, in some cases, approbated\nby law. Is that therefore right? Is it human law that is the standard of\nmorality and religion? May not a man be a notoriously wicked man, and\nyet not violate human law? The question is, Is it right? Does it accord\nwith the divine law? Does it tend in its effects to bring glory to God\nin the highest, and to promote the best good of mankind? If not, the\nword of God forbids it; and if a man who has the means of understanding\nits nature and effects continues to follow it, he does it at the peril\nof his soul.\n\n\"But,\" says another, \"if I should not sell it, I could not sell so many\nother things.\" If you could not, then you are forbidden by the word of\nGod to sell so many other things. And if you continue to make money by\nthat which tends to destroy your fellow-men, you incur the displeasure\nof Jehovah. \"But if I should not sell it, I must change my business.\"\nThen you are required by the Lord to change your business. A voice from\nthe throne of his excellent glory cries, \"Turn ye, turn ye from this\nevil way; for why will ye die?\"\n\n\"If I should turn from it, I could not support my family.\" This is not\ntrue; at least, no one has a right to say that it is true till he has\ntried it, and done his whole duty by ceasing to do evil and learning to\ndo well, trusting in God, and has found that his family is not\nsupported. Jehovah declares, that such as seek the Lord, and are\ngoverned by his will, shall not want any good thing. And till men have\nmade the experiment of obeying him in all things, and found that they\ncannot support their families, they have no right to say that it is\nnecessary for them to sell ardent spirit. And if they do say this, it is\na libel on the divine character and government. There is no truth in it.\nHe who feeds the sparrow and clothes the lily, will, if they do right,\nprovide for them and their families; and there is no shadow of\nnecessity, in order to obtain support, for them to carry on a business\nwhich destroys their fellow-men.\n\n\"But others will do it, if I do not.\" Others will send out their\nvessels, steal the black man, and sell him and his children into\nperpetual bondage, if you do not. Others will steal, rob, and commit\nmurder, if you do not; and why may not you do it, and have a portion of\nthe profit, as well as they? Because, if you do, you will be a thief, a\nrobber, and a murderer, like them. You will here be partaker of their\nguilt, and hereafter of their plagues. Every friend, therefore, to you,\nto your Maker, or the eternal interests of men, will, if acquainted with\nthis subject, say to you, As you value the favor of God, and would\nescape his righteous and eternal indignation, renounce this work of\ndeath; for he that soweth death, shall also reap death.\n\n\"But our fathers imported, manufactured, and sold ardent spirit, and\nwere they not good men? Have not they gone to heaven?\" Men who professed\nto be good once had a multiplicity of wives, and have not some of them\ntoo gone to heaven? Men who professed to be good once were engaged in\nthe slave-trade, and have not some of them gone to heaven? But can men\nwho understand the will of God with regard to these subjects, continue\nto do such things now, and yet go to heaven? The principle which applies\nin this case, and which makes the difference between those who did such\nthings once, and those who continue to do them now, is that to which\nJesus Christ referred when he said, \"If I had not come and spoken to\nthem, they had not had sin; but now they have no cloak for their sin.\"\nThe days of that darkness and ignorance which God may have winked at\nhave gone by, and he now commandeth all men to whom his will is made\nknown to repent. Your fathers, when they were engaged in selling ardent\nspirit, did not know that all men, under all circumstances, would be\nbetter without it. They did not know that it caused three-quarters of\nthe pauperism and crime in the land--that it deprived many of\nreason--greatly increased the number and severity of diseases, and\nbrought down such multitudes to an untimely grave. The facts had not\nthen been collected and published. They did not know that it tended so\nfatally to obstruct the progress of the Gospel, and ruin, for eternity,\nthe souls of men. You do know it, or have the means of knowing it. You\ncannot sin with as little guilt as did your fathers. The facts, which\nare the voice of God in his providence, and manifest his will, are now\nbefore the world. By them he has come and spoken to you. And if you\ncontinue, under these circumstances, to violate his will, you will have\nno cloak, no covering, no excuse for your sin. And though sentence\nagainst this evil work is not executed at once, judgment, if you\ncontinue, will not linger, nor will damnation slumber.\n\nThe accessory and the principal, in the commission of crime, are both\nguilty. Both by human laws are condemned. The principle applies to the\nlaw of God; and not only drunkards, but drunkard-makers--not only\nmurderers, but those who excite others to commit murder, and furnish\nthem with the known cause of their evil deeds, will, if they understand\nwhat they do, and continue thus to rebel against God, be shut out of\nheaven.\n\nAmong the Jews, if a man had a beast that went out and killed a man, the\nbeast, said Jehovah, shall be slain, and his flesh shall not be eaten.\nThe owner must lose the whole of him as a testimony to the sacredness of\nhuman life, and a warning to all not to do any thing, or connive at any\nthing that tended to destroy it. But the owner, if he did not know that\nthe beast was dangerous, and liable to kill, was not otherwise to be\npunished. But if he did know, if it had been testified to the owner that\nthe beast was dangerous, and liable to kill, and he did not keep him in,\nbut let him go out, and he killed a man, then, by the direction of\nJehovah, the beast and the owner were both to be put to death. The\nowner, under these circumstances, was held responsible, and justly too,\nfor the injury which his beast might do. Though men are not required or\npermitted now to execute this law, as they were when God was the\nMagistrate, yet the reason of the law remains. It is founded in\njustice, and is eternal. To the pauperism, crime, sickness, insanity,\nand death temporal and eternal, which ardent spirit occasions, those who\nknowingly furnish the materials, those who manufacture, and those who\nsell it, are all accessory, and as such will be held responsible at the\ndivine tribunal. There was a time when the owners did not know the\ndangerous and destructive qualities of this article--when the facts had\nnot been developed and published, nor the minds of men turned to the\nsubject; when they did not know that it caused such a vast portion of\nthe vice and wretchedness of the community, and such wide-spreading\ndesolation to the temporal and eternal interests of men; and although it\nthen destroyed thousands, for both worlds, the guilt of the men who sold\nit was comparatively small. But now they sin against light, pouring down\nupon them with unutterable brightness; and if they know what they do,\nand in full view of its consequences continue that work of death--not\nonly let the poison go out, but furnish it, and send it out to all who\nare disposed to purchase--it had been better for them, and better for\nmany others, if they had never been born. For, briefly to sum up what we\nhave said,\n\n1. It is the selling of that, without the use of which nearly all the\nbusiness of this world was conducted, till within less than three\nhundred years, and which of course is not _needful_.\n\n2. It is the selling of that which was not generally used by the people\nof this country for more than a hundred years after the country was\nsettled, and which by hundreds of thousands, and some in all kinds of\nlawful business, is not used now. Once they did use it, and thought it\nneedful or useful. But by experiment, the best evidence in the world,\nthey have found that they were mistaken, and that they are in all\nrespects better without it. And the cases are so numerous as to make it\n_certain_, that should the experiment be fairly made, this would be the\ncase with all. Of course it is not _useful_.\n\n3. It is the selling of that which is a real, a subtile and very\ndestructive _poison_--a poison which, by men in health, cannot be taken\nwithout deranging healthy action, and inducing more or less disease,\nboth of body and mind; which is, when taken in any quantity, positively\n_hurtful_; and which is of course forbidden by the word of God.\n\n4. It is the selling of that which tends to form an unnatural, and a\nvery dangerous and destructive appetite; which, by gratification, like\nthe desire of sinning in the man who sins, tends continually to\nincrease, and which thus exposes all who form it to come to a _premature\ngrave_.\n\n5. It is the selling of that which causes a great portion of all the\npauperism in our land; and thus, for the benefit of a few--those who\nsell--brings an enormous tax on the whole community. Is this fair? Is it\njust? Is it not exposing our children and youth to become drunkards? And\nis it not inflicting great evils on society?\n\n6. It is the selling of that which excites to a great portion of all the\ncrimes that are committed, and which is thus shown to be in its effects\nhostile to the moral government of God, and to the social, civil, and\nreligious interests of men; at war with their highest good, both for\nthis life and the life to come.\n\n7. It is the selling of that, the sale and use of which, if continued,\nwill form intemperate appetites, which, if formed, will be gratified,\nand thus will perpetuate intemperance and all its abominations to the\nend of the world.\n\n8. It is the selling of that which makes wives widows, and children\norphans; which leads husbands often to murder their wives, and wives to\nmurder their husbands; parents to murder their children, and children to\nmurder their parents; and which prepares multitudes for the prison, for\nthe gallows, and for hell.\n\n9. It is the selling of that which greatly increases the amount and\nseverity of sickness; which in many cases destroys reason; which causes\na great portion of all the sudden deaths, and brings down multitudes who\nwere never intoxicated, and never condemned to suffer the penalty of the\ncivil law, to an untimely grave.\n\n10. It is the selling of that which tends to lessen the health, the\nreason, and the usefulness, to diminish the comfort, and shorten the\nlives of all who habitually use it.\n\n11. It is the selling of that which darkens the understanding, sears the\nconscience, pollutes the affections, and debases all the powers of man.\n\n12. It is the selling of that which weakens the power of motives to do\nright, and increases the power of motives to do wrong, and is thus shown\nto be in its effects hostile to the moral government of God, as well as\nto the temporal and eternal interests of men; which excites men to rebel\nagainst him, and to injure and destroy one another. And no man can sell\nit without exerting an influence which tends to hinder the reign of the\nLord Jesus Christ over the minds and hearts of men, and to lead them to\npersevere in iniquity, till, notwithstanding all the kindness of\nJehovah, their case shall become hopeless.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuppose a man, when about to commence the traffic in ardent spirit,\nshould write in great capitals on his sign-board, to be seen and read of\nall men, what he will do, viz., that so many of the inhabitants of this\ntown or city, he will, for the sake of getting their money, make\npaupers, and send them to the almshouse, and thus oblige the whole\ncommunity to support them and their families; that so many others he\nwill excite to the commission of crimes, and thus increase the expenses,\nand endanger the peace and welfare of the community; that so many he\nwill send to the jail, and so many more to the state prison, and so many\nto the gallows; that so many he will visit with sore and distressing\ndiseases; and in so many cases diseases which would have been\ncomparatively harmless, he will by his poison render fatal; that in so\nmany cases he will deprive persons of reason, and in so many cases will\ncause sudden death; that so many wives he will make widows, and so many\nchildren he will make orphans, and that in so many cases he will cause\nthe children to grow up in ignorance, vice, and crime, and after being\nnuisances on earth, will bring them to a premature grave; that in so\nmany cases he will prevent the efficacy of the Gospel, grieve away the\nHoly Ghost, and ruin for eternity the souls of men. And suppose he\ncould, and should give some faint conception of what it is to lose the\nsoul, and of the overwhelming guilt and coming wretchedness of him who\nis knowingly instrumental in producing this ruin; and suppose he should\nput at the bottom of the sign this question, viz., What, you may ask,\ncan be my object in acting so much like a devil incarnate, and bringing\nsuch accumulated wretchedness upon a comparatively happy people? and\nunder it should put the true answer, MONEY; and go on to say, I have a\nfamily to support; I want money, and must have it; this is my business,\nI was brought up to it; and if I should not follow it I must change my\nbusiness, or I could not support my family. And as all faces begin to\ngather blackness at the approaching ruin, and all hearts to boil with\nindignation at its author, suppose he should add for their consolation,\n\"If I do not bring this destruction upon you, somebody else will.\" What\nwould they think of him? what would all the world think of him? what\n_ought_ they to think of him? And is it any worse for a man to tell the\npeople beforehand honestly what he will do, if they buy and use his\npoison, than it is to go on and do it? And what if they are not aware of\nthe mischief which he is doing them, and he can accomplish it through\ntheir own perverted and voluntary agency? Is it not equally abominable,\nif _he knows_ it, and does not cease from producing it?\n\nAnd if there are churches whose members are doing such things, and those\nchurches are not blessed with the presence and favor of the Holy Ghost,\nthey need not be at any loss for the reason. And if they should _never_\nagain, while they continue in this state, be blessed with the reviving\ninfluence of God's Spirit, they need not be at any loss for the reason.\nTheir own members are exerting a strong and fatal influence against it;\nand that too after Divine Providence has shown them what they are doing.\nAnd in many such cases there is awful guilt with regard to this thing\nresting upon the whole church. Though they have known for years what\nthese men were doing; have seen the misery, heard the oaths, witnessed\nthe crimes, and known the wretchedness and deaths which they have\noccasioned, and perhaps have spoken of it, and deplored it among one\nanother; many of them have never spoken on this subject to the persons\nthemselves. They have seen them scattering firebrands, arrows, and death\ntemporal and eternal, and yet have never so much as warned them on the\nsubject, and never besought them to give up their work of death.\n\nAn individual lately conversed with one of his professed Christian\nbrethren who was engaged in this traffic, and told him not only that he\nwas ruining for both worlds many of his fellow-men, but that his\nChristian brethren viewed his business as inconsistent with his\nprofession, and tending to counteract all efforts for the salvation of\nmen; and the man, after frankly acknowledging that it was wrong, said\nthat this was the first time that any of them had conversed with him on\nthe subject. This may be the case with other churches; and while it is,\nthe whole church is conniving at the evil, and the whole church is\nguilty. Every brother, in such a case, is bound, on his own account, to\nconverse with him who is thus aiding the powers of darkness, and\nopposing the kingdom of Jesus Christ, and try to persuade him to cease\nfrom this destructive business.\n\nThe whole church is bound to make efforts, and use all proper means to\naccomplish this result. And before half the individual members have done\ntheir duty on this subject, they may expect, if the offending brother\nhas, and manifests the spirit of Christ, that he will cease to be an\noffence to his brethren, and a stumbling-block to the world, over which\nsuch multitudes fall to the pit of woe. And till the church, the whole\nchurch, do their duty on this subject, they cannot be freed from the\nguilt of conniving at the evil. And no wonder if the Lord leaves them to\nbe as the mountains of Gilboa, on which there was neither rain or dew.\nAnd should the church receive from the world those who make it a\nbusiness to carry on this notoriously immoral traffic, they will greatly\nincrease their guilt, and ripen for the awful displeasure of God. And\nunless members of the church shall cease to teach, by their business,\nthe fatal error that it is right for men to buy and use ardent spirit as\na drink, the evil will never be eradicated, intemperance will never\ncease, and the day of millennial glory never come.\n\nEach individual who names the name of Christ is called upon, by the\nprovidence of God, to act on this subject openly and decidedly for him,\nand in such a manner as is adapted to banish intemperance and all its\nabominations from the earth, and to cause temperance and all its\nattendant benefits universally to prevail. And if ministers of the\nGospel and members of Christian churches do not connive at the sin of\nfurnishing this poison as a drink for their fellow-men; and men who, in\nopposition to truth and duty, continue to be engaged in this destructive\nemployment, are viewed and treated as wicked men; the work which the\nLord hath commenced and carried forward with a rapidity, and to an\nextent hitherto unexampled in the history of the world, will continue to\nmove onward till not a name, nor a trace, nor a shadow of a drunkard,\nor a drunkard-maker, shall be found on the globe.\n\nPROFESSED CHRISTIAN--In the manufacture or sale of ardent spirit as a\ndrink, you do not, and you cannot honor God; but you do, and, so long as\nyou continue it, you will greatly dishonor Him. You exert an influence\nwhich tends directly and strongly to ruin, for both worlds, your\nfellow-men. Should you take a quantity of that poisonous liquid into\nyour closet, present it before the Lord, confess to him its nature and\neffects, spread out before him what it has done and what it will do, and\nattempt to ask him to bless you in extending its influence; it would,\nunless your conscience is already seared as with a hot iron, appear to\nyou like blasphemy. You could no more do it than you could take the\ninstruments of gambling and attempt to ask God to bless you in extending\nthem through the community. And why not, if it is a lawful business? Why\nnot ask God to increase it, and make you an instrument in extending it\nover the country, and perpetuating it to all future generations? Even\nthe worldly and profane man, when he hears about professing Christians\noffering prayer to God that he would bless them in the manufacture or\nsale of ardent spirit, involuntarily shrinks back and says, \"That is too\nbad.\" He can see that it is an abomination. And if it is too bad for a\nprofessed Christian to pray about it, is it not too bad for him to\npractise it? If you continue, under all the light which God in his\nprovidence has furnished with regard to its hurtful nature and\ndestructive effects, to furnish ardent spirit as a drink for your\nfellow-men, you will run the fearful hazard of losing your soul, and you\nwill exert an influence which powerfully tends to destroy the souls of\nyour fellow-men. Every time you furnish it you are rendering it less\nlikely that they will be illuminated, sanctified, and saved, and more\nlikely that they will continue in sin and go down to the chambers of\ndeath.\n\nIt is always worse for a church-member to do an immoral act, and teach\nan immoral sentiment, than for an immoral man, because it does greater\nmischief. And this is understood, and often adverted to by the immoral\nthemselves. Even drunkards are now stating it to their fellow-drunkards,\nthat church-members are not better than they. And to prove it, are\nquoting the fact, that although they are not drunkards, and perhaps do\nnot get drunk, they, for the sake of money, carry on the business of\nmaking drunkards. And are not the men and their business of the same\ncharacter? \"The deacon,\" says a drunkard, \"will not use ardent spirit\nhimself: he says, 'It is poison!' But for six cents he will sell it to\nme. And though he will not furnish it to his own children, for he says,\n'It will ruin them!' yet he will furnish it to mine. And there is my\nneighbor, who was once as sober as the deacon himself, but he had a\npretty farm, which the deacon wanted, and for the sake of getting it he\nhas made him a drunkard. And his wife, as good a woman as ever lived,\nhas died of a broken heart, because her children would follow their\nfather.\" No, you cannot convince even a drunkard, that the man who is\nselling him that which he knows is killing him, is any better than the\ndrunkard himself. Nor can you convince a sober man, that he who, for the\nsake of money, will, with his eyes open, make drunkards of sober men, is\nany less guilty than the drunkards he makes.\n\nIs this writing upon their employment \"Holiness unto the Lord,\" without\nwhich no one, from the Bible, can expect to be prepared for the holy\njoys of heaven? As ardent spirit is a poison which, when used even\nmoderately, tends to harden the heart, to sear the conscience, to blind\nthe understanding, to pollute the affections, to weaken and derange and\ndebase the whole man, and to lessen the prospect of his eternal life, it\nis the indispensable duty of each person to renounce it. And he cannot\nrefuse to do this without becoming, if acquainted with this subject,\nknowingly accessory to the temporal and eternal ruin of his fellow-men.\nAnd what will it profit him to gain even the whole world by that which\nruins the soul?\n\nMy friend, you are soon to die, and in eternity to witness the\ninfluence, the whole influence, which you exert while on earth, and you\nare to witness its consequence in joy or sorrow to endless being.\nImagine yourself now, where you soon will be, _on your death-bed_. And\nimagine that you have a full view of the property which you have caused\nto be wasted, or which you have gained without furnishing any valuable\nequivalent; of the health which you have destroyed, and the characters\nwhich you have demoralized; of the wives that you have made widows, and\nthe children that you have made orphans; of all the lives that you have\nshortened, and all the souls that you have destroyed. O! imagine that\nthese are the only \"rod and staff\" which you have to comfort you as you\ngo down the valley of the shadow of death, and that they will all meet\nyou in full array at the judgment and testify against you. What will it\nprofit you, though you have gained more money than you otherwise would,\nwhen you have left it all far behind in that world which is destined to\nfire, and the day of perdition of ungodly men? What will it profit, when\nyou are enveloped in the influence which you have exerted, and are\nexperiencing its consequences to endless ages; finding for ever that as\na man soweth so must he reap, and that if he has sowed death he must\nreap _death_? Do not any longer assist in destroying men, nor expose\nyourself and your children to be destroyed. Do good, and good only, to\nall as you have opportunity, and good shall come unto you.\n\n\n\n\nTHE REWARDS OF DRUNKENNESS.\n\n[Illustration: Drunk, with remonstrating wife, and small child]\n\n\nIf you wish to be always thirsty, be a Drunkard; for the oftener and\nmore you drink, the oftener and more thirsty you will be.\n\nIf you seek to prevent your friends raising you in the world, be a\nDrunkard; for that will defeat all their efforts.\n\nIf you would effectually counteract your own attempts to do well, be a\nDrunkard; and you will not be disappointed.\n\nIf you wish to repel the endeavors of the whole human race to raise you\nto character, credit, and prosperity, be a Drunkard; and you will most\nassuredly triumph.\n\nIf you are determined to be poor, be a Drunkard; and you will soon be\nragged and pennyless.\n\nIf you would wish to starve your family, be a Drunkard; for that will\nconsume the means of their support.\n\nIf you would be imposed on by knaves, be a Drunkard; for that will make\ntheir task easy.\n\nIf you would wish to be robbed, be a Drunkard; which will enable the\nthief to do it with more safety.\n\nIf you would wish to blunt your senses, be a Drunkard; and you will soon\nbe more stupid than an ass.\n\nIf you would become a fool, be a Drunkard; and you will soon lose your\nunderstanding.\n\nIf you wish to unfit yourself for rational intercourse, be a Drunkard;\nfor that will accomplish your purpose.\n\nIf you are resolved to kill yourself, be a Drunkard; that being a sure\nmode of destruction.\n\nIf you would expose both your folly and secrets, be a Drunkard; and they\nwill soon be made known.\n\nIf you think you are too strong, be a Drunkard; and you will soon be\nsubdued by so powerful an enemy.\n\nIf you would get rid of your money without knowing how, be a Drunkard;\nand it will vanish insensibly.\n\nIf you would have no resource when past labor but a workhouse, be a\nDrunkard; and you will be unable to provide any.\n\nIf you are determined to expel all comfort from your house, be a\nDrunkard; and you will soon do it effectually.\n\nIf you would be always under strong suspicion, be a Drunkard; for little\nas you think it, all agree that those who steal from themselves and\nfamilies will rob others.\n\nIf you would be reduced to the necessity of shunning your creditors, be\na Drunkard; and you will soon have reason to prefer the by-paths to the\npublic streets.\n\nIf you would be a dead weight on the community, and \"cumber the ground,\"\nbe a Drunkard; for that will render you useless, helpless, burdensome,\nand expensive.\n\nIf you would be a nuisance, be a Drunkard; for the approach of a\nDrunkard is like that of a dunghill.\n\nIf you would be hated by your family and friends, be a Drunkard; and you\nwill soon be more than disagreeable.\n\nIf you would be a pest to society, be a Drunkard; and you will be\navoided as infectious.\n\nIf you do not wish to have your faults reformed, continue to be a\nDrunkard, and you will not care for good advice.\n\nIf you would smash windows, break the peace, get your bones broken,\ntumble under carts and horses, and be locked up in watch-houses, be a\nDrunkard; and it will be strange if you do not succeed.\n\nIf you wish all your prospects in life to be clouded, be a Drunkard; and\nthey will soon be dark enough.\n\nIf you would destroy your body, be a Drunkard; as drunkenness is the\nmother of disease.\n\nIf you mean to ruin your soul, be a Drunkard; that you may be excluded\nfrom heaven.\n\nFinally, if you are determined to be utterly destroyed, in estate, body,\nand soul, be a Drunkard; and you will soon know that it is impossible to\nadopt a more effectual means to accomplish your--END.\n\n\"All the crimes on earth,\" says Lord Bacon, \"do not destroy so many of\nthe _human race_, nor alienate so much _property_, as _drunkenness_.\"\n\n_Drunkenness_ expels reason--drowns the memory--defaces\nbeauty--diminishes strength--inflames the blood--causes internal,\nexternal, and incurable wounds--is a witch to the senses, a devil to the\nsoul, a thief to the purse--the beggar's companion, the wife's woe, and\nchildren's sorrow--makes a strong man weak, and a wise man a fool. He is\nworse than a beast, and is a self-murderer, who drinks to others' good\nhealth, and robs himself of his own. He is worse than a beast, for no\nanimal will designedly intoxicate itself; but a drunkard swallows his\nliquor, well knowing the condition to which it will reduce him, and that\nthese draughts will deprive him of the use of his reason, and render him\nworse than a beast. By the effects of liquor his evil passions and\ntempers are freed from restraint; and, while in a state of intoxication,\nhe commits actions, which, when sober, he would have shuddered to have\nthought of. Many an evil deed has been done, many a MURDER has been\ncommitted, when those who did these things were intoxicated.\n\nTremble, then, if ever you taste the intoxicating draught. Reflect,\nbefore you put the cup to your lips. Remember that you are forming a\nhabit which will lead on to the commission of every crime to which the\npropensities of your nature, rendered violent by indulgence, can urge\nyou. Before you are aware, you may find yourself awaking from a fit of\nintoxication, guilty of offences against the laws of your country which\nwill draw down just vengeance upon your head; abhorring yourself, and an\nabhorrence in the sight of heaven.\n\n_Drunkenness_, persisted in, will assuredly _destroy your soul_, and\nconsign you to everlasting misery. Hear what the _word_ of _God_\ndeclares.\n\n\"Awake, ye drunkards, and weep.\" Joel 1:5.\n\n\"Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contention? who hath wounds\nwithout cause? They that tarry long at the wine, they that go to seek\nmixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine; at the last it biteth like a\nserpent, and stingeth like an adder.\" Prov. 23:29-32.\n\n\"Woe unto them that rise up in the morning, that they may follow strong\ndrink; that continue until night, till wine inflame them.\" Isa. 5:11.\n\n\"Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to\nmingle strong drink.\" Isa. 5:22.\n\n\"The works of the flesh are manifest, which are these: uncleanness,\nmurders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like; of the which I tell\nyou, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of\nGod.\" Gal. 5:19, 21.\n\nThese are awful declarations, and they will certainly be fulfilled upon\nhim who continues to delight in drunkenness; he cannot enjoy the love of\nGod, he will not be received into heaven.\n\nSeparate yourself, then, utterly front this ensnaring sin. \"Touch not;\ntaste not; handle not.\" In ENTIRE ABSTINENCE is your only safety. This\npersevered in, you shall never fall. Wherever and however the temptation\nis presented, \"avoid it--turn from it, and pass away.\" Turn also from\nevery sin. \"Commit your way unto the Lord,\" and he will \"direct your\npaths.\" A glorious provision is made for your salvation, through the\natoning blood of Christ. \"God so loved the world, that he gave his\nonly-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish,\nbut have everlasting life.\" John 3:16. Commit your soul and your all to\nhim. He will guide you through life, enable you to vanquish every foe,\nand crown you with victory in heaven.\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WELL-CONDUCTED FARM.\n\n  [Illustration: Farmer dismissing drunk workman]\n\n\nMr. B----, a respectable farmer in Massachusetts, came, a number of\nyears ago, into the possession of a farm of about six hundred acres. On\nthis farm he employed eight or ten men. These men were in the habit, and\nhad been for years, of taking each a portion of ardent spirit, when they\nlabored, every day. They had grown up in the practice of taking it, and\nthe idea was fixed in their minds that they _could_ not do without. It\nwas the common opinion in the place, that, for laboring men, who had to\nwork hard, some ardent spirit was _necessary_. Mr. B---- for a time\nfollowed the common practice, and furnished his men with a portion of\nspirit _daily_. But after much attentive observation and mature\nreflection, he became deeply impressed with the conviction that the\npractice was not only useless, but hurtful. He became convinced that it\ntends to lead men to intemperance; to undermine their constitutions;\nand to sow the seeds of death, temporal and eternal. And he felt that he\ncould not be justified in continuing to cultivate his farm by means of a\npractice which was ruining the bodies and souls of his fellow-men. He\ntherefore called his men together, and told them, in a kind and faithful\nmanner, what were his convictions. He told them that he was perfectly\nsatisfied that the practice of taking ardent spirits was not only\nneedless, but hurtful--that it tended to weaken and destroy both the\nbody and mind; and that he could not, consistently with his duty, be\ninstrumental in continuing a practice which he had no doubt tended to\ndestroy them both for this world and the world to come. He therefore,\nfrom that time, should furnish them with no ardent spirits.\n\nOne of them said that he could not work without it; and if he did not\nfurnish them with it, he would not stay with him. \"Very well,\" said Mr.\nB----; \"hand me your bill, and be off.\" The man replied, that he\npresumed all the others would leave him. \"Very well,\" said Mr. B----;\n\"tell them, any of them who choose to leave--all of them, if they choose\nto go--to hand in their bills, and they shall have their money to-night.\nIf they stay, however, they shall have nourishing food and drink, at any\ntime, and in any abundance which they wish; and at the close of the year\neach one shall have twelve dollars, that is, one dollar a month, in\naddition to his wages. But I shall furnish no spirits of any kind,\nneither shall I have it taken by men in my employment. I had rather my\nfarm would grow up to weeds, than be cultivated by means of so\npernicious a practice as that of taking ardent spirits.\" However, none\nof the men left, except that one. And when he saw that all the others\nconcluded to stay, he came back, and said, that as the others had\nconcluded to stay, and do without rum, he believed that he could, and he\nshould be glad to stay, too, if Mr. B---- had no objection. But he told\nhim, No, he did not wish him to stay; he would make of him an example,\nand he must go. So he departed. The rest went to work, and he furnished\nthem with no spirits from that time through the season. Yet his work, he\nsaid, was done \"with less trouble, in a better manner, and in better\nseason, than ever before.\" Some of his men, however, he found, when they\nwent abroad, did take ardent spirits. They sometimes procured it at the\ntavern, or a store; and in some instances took it secretly, while on his\nfarm. The evil, therefore, although greatly lessened, was not entirely\ndone away.\n\nWhen he came to hire men again, he let it be known that he did not wish\nto hire any man who was not willing to abstain entirely, and at all\ntimes, from the use of ardent spirits. His neighbors told him that he\ncould not hire men on those conditions; that men could not be found who\nwould do without rum, especially in haying and harvesting. Well, he\nsaid, then he would not hire them at all. His farm should grow up to\nweeds. As to cultivating it by the help of rum, he would not. By\nallowing men in his employment, and for whose conduct he was in a\nmeasure responsible, to take ardent spirits, he should be lending his\ninfluence to continue a practice, or he should at least be conniving at\na practice, which was destroying more lives, making more mothers widows,\nand children orphans, than famine, pestilence, and sword: a practice\nwhich was destroying by thousands, and tens of thousands, not only the\nbodies, but the _souls_ of men, rendering them, and their children after\nthem, wretched for this world, and the world to come. \"No,\" said he, \"I\nwill clear my hands of this enormous guilt. I will not by practice\nencourage, or by silence, or having men in my employment who take ardent\nspirits, connive at this deadly evil.\" However, he found no difficulty\nin hiring men, and of the best kind. And when his neighbors saw, that by\ngiving one dollar a month more than others, he could hire as many men as\nhe pleased, they gave up that objection. But they said, it was bad\npolicy; for the men would not do so much work, and he would, in the\nend, be a loser. But he told them that, although they might not at first\ndo quite so much, he presumed that they would in the end do more. But if\nthey should not, only let them do, said he, what they easily can, and I\nshall be satisfied. My Maker does not require of me any more than I can\ndo without rum, (for he used no ardent spirits himself) and I shall\nrequire no more of them. His men went to work. And his business\nprospered exceedingly. His men were remarkably uniform in their temper\nand deportment; still, and peaceable.\n\nHe found them every day alike, and he could always safely trust them.\nWhat he expected to have done, he found _was_ done, in good season, and\nin the best manner. His men never made so few mistakes, had so few\ndisputes among themselves; they never injured and destroyed so few\ntools, found so little fault with their manner of living, or were, on\nthe whole, so pleasant to one another, and to their employer. The men\nappeared, more than ever before, like brethren of the same family,\nsatisfied with their business, contented, and happy.\n\nAt the close of the year, one of them came to Mr. B----, and, with tears\nin his eyes, said, \"Sir, I thought that you were very hard, in keeping\nus from drinking rum. I had always been accustomed to it, and I thought\nthat I could not do without it. And for the first three months,\" said\nhe, \"it was hard, very hard. I had such a _caving in_ here\"--putting his\nhands up to his side--\"I had such a _desperate caving in_ here, that I\nthought I should die. But, as you gave us good wages, and good pay, and\nthe rest resolved to stand it without rum, I thought I would.\n\n\"And now,\" said he, \"I am well and happy. I work with ease, sleep\nsweetly, and when I get up in the morning, instead of having, as I used\nto, my mouth and throat\"--to use his own words--\"so _full of cobwebs_,\nas to be _spitting cotton wool_ all the time, my mouth and throat are\nclear as a whistle. I feel active, have a good appetite, and can eat any\nthing.\n\n\"Formerly, when I worked hard, I was at night tired, and could not\nsleep. When I got up in the morning I was so sore and stiff, so filled\nup in my throat, and my appetite was so gone, that I could do nothing\ntill I had taken a glass of rum and molasses. I then stood it till\nbreakfast. But my breakfast did not relish, and what I took did not seem\nto nourish me. Soon after I got to work I was _so hollow and so tired_,\nthat I felt _desperate ugly_ till 11 o'clock. Then I took a _new\nvamper_. And by the strength of that I got on till dinner. Then I must\nhave a little more to give me an appetite. At three o'clock in the\nafternoon I must have recourse\"--these were his words--\"_to the hair of\nthe same dog_, to keep up my sinking spirits. And thus I got along till\nnight. Then I must have a little to sharpen appetite for supper. And\nafter supper I could not sleep, till I had taken _another nightcap_.\n\n\"Thus I continued,\" said he, \"year after year, undermining a\nconstitution which was naturally very robust; and growing worse and\nworse, until I came under your wise and excellent regulations. And now,\"\nsaid he, \"I am cured. I _am cured_. I can now do more labor than when I\ntook spirits, without _half_ the fatigue, and take nothing stronger than\npure cold water. If a man would give me the same wages that you do, and\na dollar a day in addition, to return to the practice of drinking rum, I\nwould laugh at him.\" All this was the free, spontaneous effusion of his\nown mind, in view of the great change wrought in his feelings by leaving\noff _entirely_ the use of ardent spirits.\n\nAnother of the workmen came to Mr. B---- and said, that he had found it\nvery hard to do without rum at first; but he could now freely say, that\nhe never enjoyed so good health, or felt so well, as he did then. He\nsaid that in cold weather in the winter, and after chopping all day in\nthe woods, especially if exposed to rains, or if his feet were wet, he\nhad for a long time been accustomed to a very bad rheumatism, and at\nnight to a dreadful headache. He took spirits temperately, and he\nsupposed it was necessary to guard him against these evils. Still he\nsuffered them; and he found nothing that would prevent them. But since\nhe had left off entirely the use of spirits, he had had no rheumatism,\nand been entirely free from the headache.\n\nAnother of the workmen said he thought at first that he could do very\nwell without spirits three quarters of the year; but that, in haying and\nharvesting, he should want a little. But he had found that a dish of\nbread and milk, or some other nourishing food, at 11 o'clock, answered\nhis purpose at all times just as well as grog, and he thought a little\nbetter. And as he was now entirely free from the habit of taking\nspirits, he would not on any account be placed in a situation where he\nshould be tempted to renew it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch were the feelings of men who had always been accustomed to the\npractice of taking spirits, till they came into Mr. B----'s employment,\nand who afterwards had not taken a drop. They had tried both sides, and\nhad found, by experience, that the practice of taking ardent spirits is\nutterly useless; nay, that it is positively hurtful. It was their united\ntestimony, that they enjoyed better health, were more happy, could do\nmore work, and with less fatigue, than when they took spirits.\n\nThey said, to be sure, that they found it hard to do without it at\nfirst. And so would a man who had been in the habit of taking laudanum,\nor any poison, that was not fatal, but was stimulating and pleasant to\nthe taste, however destructive it might be in the end to his\nconstitution. But after they had freed themselves from the habit of\ntaking spirits, they found no inconvenience; but were in all respects\nbetter than they were before. And they acknowledged that they were\nexceedingly indebted to him, who, by his wise regulations, had been the\nmeans of improving their condition. The following were some of the\nadvantages to _them_.\n\n1. They had a better appetite, partook of their food with a keener\nrelish, and it was more nourishing to them than before.\n\n2. They possessed much greater vigor and activity, both of body and\nmind.\n\n3. They performed the same labor with much greater ease; and were in a\ngreat measure free from that lassitude and fatigue to which they were\nbefore accustomed.\n\n4. They had greater wages, and they laid up a much greater portion of\nwhat they had. Before, numbers used to spend a great portion of their\nwages in scenes of amusement and dissipation. Now, they have no\ninclination to frequent such scenes. The consequence is, they lay up\nmore money. They are, also, more serious in their deportment, spend more\nof their leisure time in useful reading, much oftener peruse the\nScriptures, and attend public worship; and they are more attentive to\nall the means of grace. In a word, they are more likely to become useful\nand happy in this life, and to be prepared for lasting blessedness in\nthe life to come.\n\n5. Their example will be more likely to be useful to those around them;\nand that for both worlds.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe following are some of the advantages to _their employer_.\n\n1. The men, he says, in the course of the year, do more work, in a\nbetter manner, and at a much less expense of tools.\n\n2. He can now with much greater ease have a place for every thing, and\nevery thing in its place.\n\n3. When a stone has fallen from the wall it is now laid up, as the men\nare passing by, without his mentioning it. The gates are locked, and the\nbars put up; so that the cattle do not, as before, get in and destroy\nthe crops.\n\n4. His summer work is done in such season, that earth, loam, etc., is\ncarted into the yard in the fall, instead of being carted in in the\nspring, as before. The consequence is, when carried out it is richer,\nand renders the farm more productive.\n\n5. His barns, in winter, are kept clean, and less fodder is wasted. The\ncattle and horses are daily curried, and appear in better order.\n\n6. When his men go into the forests, instead, as before, of cutting down\nthe nearest, thriftiest, and largest trees, they cut those that are\ndecayed, crooked, and not likely to grow any better; pick up those that\nare blown down, and thus leave the forests in a better state.\n\n7. The men are more uniform, still, and peaceable; are less trouble in\nthe house, and more contented with their manner of living.\n\n8. At morning and evening prayer, they are more ready than before to\nattend, and in season; appearing to esteem it not only a duty, but a\nprivilege and a pleasure to be present, and unite with the family in the\ndaily worship of God.\n\n9. On the Sabbath, instead of wishing, as before, to stay at home, or to\nspend the day in roving about the fields, rivers, and forests, they\nchoose statedly and punctually to attend public worship. In a word,\ntheir whole deportment, both at home and abroad, is improved, and to a\ngreater extent than any, without witnessing it, can well imagine.\n\nAll these and many more advantages resulted from their abstaining\n_entirely, and at all times_, from the use of ardent spirits.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNor were the benefits confined to them and their employer. Some of his\n_neighbors_, witnessing the complete success of his system, have\nthemselves adopted it. When Mr. B---- went into that part of the\ncountry, many of the farmers in his neighborhood were in debt. Their\nfarms were mortgaged, some for $300, some for $500, and some for $1000,\nor more. They complained much of _hard times_, especially for farmers.\n\nMr. B---- told them that so long as they continued to drink rum, they\nmust expect hard times; for it was no profit, but a great expense, and\nin more ways than they imagined. They came to him to borrow money to\nsave their farms from attachment. But he told them, No. It will do men\nwho continue to drink rum no good to have money. Nay, it will be to them\nan evil. The sooner their property is gone, and they have nothing with\nwhich to buy rum, the better. For then they will do less mischief than\nif they have money, and continue to drink rum. But, said he, if you will\nleave off the use of spirits, and not take a drop for three months, I\nwill lend you money, and you may keep it, by paying the interest, as\nlong as you continue to take no ardent spirits. But when I learn that\nyou begin to take it, I shall call for the money. Some went away in\ndisgust. Others said, As Mr. B---- can do without rum, why cannot we?\nand if we can, it will be a great saving of expense. They made the\nexperiment, and found that they could, without the least inconvenience,\ndo without it. After a few months, they made known to Mr. B---- the\nresult; and he helped them to as much money as they needed. They\ncontinued to do without spirits, and they had none used by men in their\nemployment. Their business began to prosper, and their prospects to\nbrighten. Their debts are now paid, and their farms free from all\nincumbrance. The times with them have altered, and they are now\nthriving, respectable, and useful members of the community.\n\nOthers, who a few years ago were in no worse a condition than they, but\nwho continued the practice of drinking spirits, have lost their farms;\nlost their reputation; lost their health, and eventually their lives;\nand there is reason to fear, their souls. By the temperate but habitual\nuse of spirits, they formed an _intemperate appetite_. This at first was\noccasionally, and then habitually indulged; and they were ruined for\nboth worlds. The evil may extend to their children, and children's\nchildren.\n\nBut those who have entirely relinquished the use of spirits, until the\ndesire for it is removed, have experienced a wonderful transformation in\ntheir feelings, their conduct, and their prospects. And the change is\nvisible not only in them, but their families, and all their concerns.\nTheir windows are not broken out as before; nor their gates and\ngarden-fences falling down. The kitchen does not smoke as it used to do,\nbecause they keep it more _clean_, have drier and better wood, and lay\nit on the fire in a better manner. The wife does not scold as she once\ndid, because she is well provided for, is treated kindly, and has\nencouragement to labor. The children are not now in rags, but are\ncomfortably and decently clad; they are obedient, respectful, and\nmannerly; and appear to be growing up in the nurture and admonition of\nthe Lord. In short, they appear almost like a new race of beings. And if\nthey should never again adopt the practice of taking ardent spirits,\nthere is vastly more reason than before, to hope that they will be led\nby the word and Spirit of God to such a course of conduct as will\ngreatly increase their happiness and usefulness on earth, and be the\nmeans of preparing them, through grace, for the everlasting joys of\nheaven.\n\nShould each individual in our country adopt the same course, the\nfollowing are some of the advantages which would result from it.\n\n1. They would enjoy better health, be able to perform more labor, and\nwould live to a greater age.\n\n2. The evils of intemperance would soon be done away: for all who are\nnow intemperate, and continue so, will soon be dead, and no others will\nbe found to succeed them.\n\n3. There will be a saving every year of more than _thirty millions of\ndollars_, which are now expended for ardent spirits. There will be a\nsaving of more than two-thirds of all the expense of supporting the\npoor, which, in Massachusetts alone, would amount to more than $600,000\nannually. And there would be a saving of all that idleness and\ndissipation which intemperance occasions, and of the expense of more\nthan two-thirds of all the criminal prosecutions in the land. In one of\nour large cities, in which there were one thousand prosecutions for\ncrimes, more than eight hundred of them were found to have sprung from\nthe use of ardent spirits.\n\n4. There would be a saving of a vast portion of sickness; and of the\nlives probably of thirty thousand persons every year.\n\nLet these four considerations be added together, and traced in their\nvarious bearings and consequences upon the temporal and eternal welfare\nof men; and then let each individual say, whether, in view of all the\nevils connected with the practice of taking ardent spirits, he can, in\nthe sight of God, be justified in continuing the practice. That it is\n_not necessary_, has been fully proved. No one thinks it to be\nnecessary, except those who use it. And _they_ would not think so, if\nthey were not in the habit of using it. Let any man _leave off entirely_\nthe use of ardent spirits for only one year, and he will find by his own\nexperience that it is not necessary or useful. The fathers of New\nEngland did not use it, nor did their children. They were never, as a\nbody, in the practice of taking it. And yet they enjoyed better health,\nattained to a larger stature, and, with fewer comforts of life,\nperformed more labor, endured more fatigue, and lived, upon an average,\nto a greater age than any generation of their descendants who have been\nin the practice of taking spirits. As it was not necessary for the\nfathers of New England, it is certain that it is not necessary for their\ndescendants, or for any portion of our inhabitants. Hundreds of healthy,\nactive, respectable, and useful men, who _now_ do not use it, can\ntestify that it is not necessary. And this will be the testimony of\nevery one who will only relinquish entirely the use of it.\n\nIt is by the temperate and habitual use of ardent spirits, that\n_intemperate appetites_ are formed. And the temperate use of it cannot\nbe continued, without, in many cases, forming intemperate appetites; and\nafter they are formed, multitudes will be destroyed by their\ngratification.\n\n_Natural appetites_, such as are implanted in our constitution by the\nAuthor of nature, _do not by their gratification increase in their\ndemands_. What satisfied them years ago, will satisfy them now. But\n_artificial appetites_, which are formed by the wicked practices of\nmen, are _constantly increasing in their demands_. What satisfied them\nonce, will _not_ satisfy them now. And what satisfies them now, will not\nsatisfy them in future. They are constantly crying, \"_Give, give._\" And\nthere is not a man, who is in the habitual use of ardent spirits, who is\nnot in danger of dying a drunkard. Before he is aware, an intemperate\nappetite may be formed, the gratification of which may prove his\ntemporal and eternal ruin. And if the practice should not come to this\nresult with regard to himself, it may with regard to his children, and\nchildren's children. It may with regard to his neighbors, and their\nchildren. It may extend its baleful influences far and wide; and\ntransmit them, with all their innumerable evils, from generation to\ngeneration.\n\nCan, then, _temperate, sober men be clear from guilt_, in continuing a\npractice which is costing annually more than $30,000,000; increasing\nmore than threefold the poor-rates, and the crimes of the country;\nundermining the health and constitution of its inhabitants; and cutting\nof annually thirty thousand lives!\n\nThere is tremendous guilt somewhere. And it is a truth which ought to\npress with overwhelming force upon the mind of every sober man, that a\nportion of this guilt rests upon _every one_ who, with a knowledge of\nfacts, continues the _totally unnecessary and awfully pernicious\npractice of taking ardent spirits_. Each individual ought, without\ndelay, in view of eternity, to clear himself, and neither by precept nor\nexample, ever again encourage or even connive at this deadly evil.\n\n\n\n\nADDRESS ON THE EFFECTS OF ARDENT SPIRITS.\n\nBY JONATHAN KITTREDGE, ESQ.\n\n[Illustration: Drunk man arriving home to impoverished family]\n\n\nFELLOW-CITIZENS--That intemperance, in our country, is a great and\ngrowing evil, all are ready to admit. When we look abroad, and examine\ninto the state of society, we find the number of those who are in the\nconstant and habitual practice of an excessive use of ardent spirits to\nbe alarming. We see the effects that they produce among our friends and\nour neighbors, but the evil is so common, and it is so fashionable to\ndrink, and I had almost said, to drink to excess, that the sight of it\nhas lost half its terror, and we look upon an intemperate man without\nthose feelings of disgust and abhorrence which his real situation and\ncharacter are calculated to produce. This is the natural result of\nthings. The mind becomes familiar with the contemplation, the eye\naccustomed to the sight; we pay but little attention to the object--he\npasses on--we laugh at the exhibition, and grow callous and indifferent\nto the guilt. Our pity is not excited, our hearts do not ache at the\nscenes of intoxication that are almost daily exhibited around us. But if\nfor a moment we seriously reflect upon the real situation of the\nhabitually intemperate; if we call to mind what they have been--what\nthey now are; if we cast our eye to the future, and realize what, in a\nfew years, they will be; if we go further, and examine into the state of\ntheir families, of their wives and their children, we shall discover a\nscene of misery and wretchedness that will not long suffer us to remain\ncold, and indifferent, and unfeeling.\n\nThis examination we can all make for ourselves. We can all call to mind\nthe case of some individual, whom we have known for years, perhaps from\nhis infancy, who is now a poor, miserable drunkard. In early life his\nhopes and prospects were as fair as ours. His family was respectable,\nand he received all those advantages which are necessary, and which were\ncalculated to make him a useful and respectable member of society.\nPerhaps he was our school-fellow, and our boyhood may have been passed\nin his company. We witnessed the first buddings of his mental powers,\nand know that he possessed an active, enterprising mind. He grew up into\nlife with every prospect of usefulness. He entered into business, and,\nfor a while, did well. His parents looked to him for support in old age,\nand he was capable of affording it. He accumulated property, and, in a\nfew years, with ordinary prudence and industry, would have been\nindependent. He married, and became the head of a family, and the father\nof children, and all was prosperous and happy around him. Had he\ncontinued as he began, he would now have been a comfort to his friends,\nand an honor to the community. But the scene quickly changed. He grew\nfond of ardent spirits. He was seen at the store and the tavern. By\ndegrees he became intemperate. He neglected his business, and his\naffairs went to gradual decay. He is now a drunkard, his property is\nwasted, his parents have died of broken hearts, his wife is pale and\nemaciated, his children ragged, and squalid, and ignorant. He is the\ntenant of some little cabin that poverty has erected to house him from\nthe storm and the tempest. He is useless, and worse than useless: he is\na pest to all around him. All the feelings of his nature are blunted; he\nhas lost all shame; he procures his accustomed supply of the poison that\nconsumes him; he staggers through mud and through filth to his hut; he\nmeets a weeping wife and starving children; he abuses them, he tumbles\ninto his straw, and he rolls and foams like a mad brute, till he is able\nto go again. He calls for more rum--he repeats the scene from time to\ntime, and from day to day, till soon his nature faints, and he becomes\nsober in death.\n\nLet us reflect, that this guilty, wretched creature had an immortal\nmind--he was like us, of the same flesh and blood--he was our brother,\ndestined to the same eternity, created by, and accountable to, the same\nGod; and will, at last, stand at the same judgment-bar; and who, amid\nsuch reflections, will not weep at his fate--whose eye can remain dry,\nand whose heart unmoved?\n\nThis is no picture of the imagination. It is a common and sober reality.\nIt is what we see almost every day of our lives; and we live in the\nmidst of such scenes and such events. With the addition or subtraction\nof a few circumstances, it is the case of every one of the common\ndrunkards around us. They have not completed the drama--they are\nalive--but they are going to death with rapid strides, as their\npredecessors have already gone. Another company of immortal minds are\ncoming on to fill their places, as they have filled others. The number\nis kept good, and increasing. Shops, as nurseries, are established in\nevery town and neighborhood, and drunkards are raised up by the score.\nThey are made--they are formed--for no man was ever born a\ndrunkard--and, I may say, no man was ever born with a taste for ardent\nspirits. They are not the food which nature has provided. The infant may\ncry for its mother's milk, and for nourishing food, but none was ever\nheard to cry for ardent spirits. The taste is created, and in some\ninstances may be created so young, that, perhaps, many cannot remember\nthe time when they were not fond of them.\n\nAnd here permit me to make a few remarks upon the _formation, or\ncreation of this taste_. I will begin with the infant, and I may say\nthat he is born into rum. At his birth, according to custom, a quantity\nof ardent spirits is provided; they are thought to be as necessary as\nany thing else. They are considered as indispensable as if the child\ncould not be born without them. The father treats his friends and his\nhousehold, and the mother partakes with the rest. The infant is fed with\nthem, as if he could not know the good things he is heir to without a\ntaste of ardent spirits. They are kept on hand, and often given to him\nas medicine, especially where the parents are fond of them themselves.\nBy this practice, even in the cradle, his disrelish for ardent spirits\nis done away. He grows up, and during the first months or years of his\nexistence, his taste and his appetite are formed. As he runs about, and\nbegins to take notice of passing events, he sees his father and friends\ndrink; he partakes, and grows fond of them. In most families, ardent\nspirits are introduced and used on every extraordinary occasion. Without\nmentioning many, that the knowledge and experience of every man can\nsupply, I will instance only the case of visitors.\n\nA gentleman's friends and acquaintance call on him. He is glad to see\nthem, and fashion and custom make it necessary for him to invite them to\nthe sideboard. This is all done in his best style, in his most easy and\naffable manner. The best set of drinking-vessels are brought forward,\nand make quite a display. The children of the family notice this; they\nare delighted with the sight and the exhibition; they are pleased with\nthe manners, and gratified with the conversation of the visitors on the\noccasion. As soon as they go abroad, they associate the idea of drinking\nwith all that is manly and genteel. They fall into the custom, and\nimitate the example that is set them. Circumstances and situations\nexpose one to more temptations than the rest. Perhaps his resolution, or\nhis moral principle, is not so strong; and in this way, one out of\ntwenty-five of those who live to thirty years of age becomes\nintemperate. He becomes so, perhaps not from any uncommon predisposition\nto the vice, but is at first led on by fashion, and custom, and\nfavorable circumstances, till at last he plunges headlong into the\nvortex of dissipation and ruin. Our natural disrelish for ardent spirits\nis first done away--a relish for them is then created. They next become\noccasional, next habitual drinks. The habit gains strength, till, at\nlast, the daily drinker is swept away by the first adverse gale.\n\nIt is on this principle, and let the fact operate as a caution to those\nwho need it, that many men of fair unblemished characters, who have made\na temperate, but habitual use of ardent spirits in days of prosperity,\nhave, on a change of fortune, become notorious drunkards; while those\nwho have refrained in prosperity, have encountered all the storms of\nadversity unhurt. We frequently hear a man's intemperance attributed to\na particular cause, as loss of friends, loss of property, disappointed\nlove, or ambition; when, if the truth were known, it would be seen that\nsuch men had previously been addicted to the use of ardent spirits,\nperhaps not immoderately, and fly to them on such events as their solace\nand support. Intemperance requires an apprenticeship, as much as law or\nphysic; and a man can no more become intemperate in a month, than he can\nbecome a lawyer or a physician in a month. Many wonder that certain\nintemperate men, of fine talents, noble hearts, and manly feelings, do\nnot reform; but it is a greater wonder that any ever do. The evil genius\nof intemperance gradually preys upon the strength of both body and mind,\ntill the victim, when he is caught, finds, that although he was a giant\nonce, he is now a child. Its influence is seductive and insinuating, and\nmen are often irretrievably lost before they are aware of it. Let them\nbeware how they take the first step. It is by degrees that men become\nintemperate. No man ever became so all at once--it is an impossibility\nin the nature of things. It requires time to harden the heart, to do\naway shame, to blunt the moral principle, to deaden the intellectual\nfaculties, and temper the body. The intemperance of the day is the\nnatural and legitimate consequence of the customs of society--of genteel\nand respectable society. It is the common and ordinary use of ardent\nspirits, as practised in our towns and villages, that has already\npeopled them with drunkards, and which, unless checked, will fill them\nwith drunkards. The degree of intemperance that prevails, and the\nquantity of ardent spirits used, in our most respectable towns, is\nalmost incredible. Perhaps some facts on this subject will be\ninteresting.\n\nAs it regards _the degree of intemperance that prevails_, it may be\nsafely said, that one out of a hundred of the inhabitants of this part\nof the country is a common drunkard. By a common drunkard is meant one\nwho is habitually intemperate, who is often intoxicated, and who is\nrestrained from intoxication neither by principle nor shame. Of such\nthere are from ten to twenty, and upward, in every inhabited township.\nThere is another class who are intemperate, and many of them are\noccasional drunkards. This class is more numerous than the former, and\none out of about forty of the inhabitants belongs to one or the other\nclass. Is not this a horrid state of society? But any one can satisfy\nhimself of the truth of the statement, by making the examination\nhimself.\n\nThe quantity of ardent spirits yearly consumed in our towns, varies from\nsix to ten thousand gallons. It will answer the argument I intend to\ndraw from it, to state the annual quantity in this town to be six\nthousand gallons, although short of the truth. This would be three\ngallons to every inhabitant, or twenty-one gallons to every legal voter.\nThe cost of this liquid, at the low price of fifty cents per gallon,\nwill be three thousand dollars, which will pay all your town, county,\nand state taxes three years, and is as much as it costs you to support\nand maintain all your privileges, civil, religious, and literary. In one\nhundred years you would drink up all the town in ardent spirits; or it\nwould cost just such a town as this, with all your farms, stock, and\npersonal property, to furnish the inhabitants with ardent spirits, at\nthe present rate of drinking, only one hundred years. But should the\ntown continue to drink as they now do for fifty years, and in the mean\ntime suffer the cost of the spirits to accumulate by simple interest\nonly, the whole town, at the end of the term, could not pay their rum\nbills. It can be no consolation that all other towns would be alike\ninsolvent.\n\nBut this is not all. Add to this sum the loss of time and the waste of\nproperty occasioned by it, independent of its cost, and it swells the\namount to a monstrous size. Here you have an account of the cost of\nardent spirits, calculated within bounds. At present there is a great\ncomplaint about the pressure of the times, and the complaint is\ndoubtless well-founded. \"Hard times\" is in every body's mouth; but if\nyou had for the last year only abstained from the use of ardent spirits,\nyou would now have been independent and easy in your circumstances.\nThree thousand dollars, which you have paid for them, divided among you,\nwould pay all the debts you are called upon to pay. I do not mean that\nno one wants more than his proportion of this sum, but there are some\nwho want none of it, and who would circulate it, by loan or otherwise,\namong those who do want it, and it would relieve the whole town from the\ndistress they are now in.\n\nIf this town had an income that would pay all its taxes, you would\nconsider it a matter of great joy and congratulation. But if it had an\nincome that would discharge all its taxes, and each man, instead of\npaying, should receive the amount he now pays, you would consider your\nsituation highly prosperous and enviable. Discontinue the use of ardent\nspirits, and you have it. Use none, and your situation, as a town, will\nbe as good, yea, far better than if you had an income of three thousand\ndollars yearly, to be divided among its inhabitants.\n\nIf we carry this calculation farther, we shall find, on the principle\nadopted, that there are in the state of New Hampshire 2,441 common\ndrunkards, and 3,663 intemperate, or occasional drunkards--in the whole,\n6,104; and that the state consumes 732,483 gallons of ardent spirits\nannually, which cost, at 50 cents a gallon, $366,241. In the United\nStates, there would be 96,379 common, and 240,949 common and occasional\ndrunkards; and the country would consume annually 28,913,887 gallons of\nardent spirits, which cost, at 50 cents per gallon, $14,456,943--as much\nas it costs to support the whole system of our national government, with\nall that is laid out in improvements, roads, canals, pensions, etc.,\netc., and is more than one-half of the whole revenue of the Union for\nthe last year. It must be remembered that this calculation embraces only\nthe quantity and cost of the spirits, and is on the supposition that\nthis town consumes only 6,000 gallons, at 50 cents per gallon, and is a\nfair criterion for the state and nation. As it regards this state, it\nwould be safe nearly to double the quantity, and to treble the cost of\nthe spirits; and as it regards the nation, it would be safe to double\nall my calculations. In the United States, the quantity of ardent\nspirits yearly consumed, may be fairly estimated at 60,000,000 gallons,\nthe cost at $30,000,000, and the number of drunkards, of both kinds, at\n480,000.\n\nBut we all know, and it is common to remark, that the cost of the\narticle is comparatively nothing; that it hardly makes an item in the\ncalculation of pernicious consequences resulting from the consumption of\nardent spirits. Were we to embrace the usual concomitants, and estimate\nthe value of time lost, the amount of property wasted, of disease\nproduced, and of crime committed, where ardent spirits are the only\ncause, it would transcend our conceptions, and the imagination would be\nlost in the contemplation. The number of drunkards in the United States\nwould make an army as large as that with which Bonaparte marched into\nRussia; and would be sufficient to defend the United States from the\ncombined force of all Europe. Convert our drunkards into good soldiers,\nand one-tenth of them would redeem Greece from the Turks. Convert them\ninto apostles, and they would Christianize the world. And what are they\nnow? Strike them from existence, and who would feel the loss? Yes,\nstrike them from existence, and the United States would be benefited by\nthe blow.\n\nBut this is not half. I cannot tell you half the effects of ardent\nspirits. And yet ardent spirits are said to be useful and necessary. It\nis false! It is nothing but the apology that love of them renders for\ntheir use. There are only two cases in which, Dr. Rush says, they can be\nadministered without injury, and those are cases of persons like to\nperish, and where substitutes may be applied of equal effect. What\nrational man would use them, for the sake of these two possible cases?\nAs well might he introduce rattlesnakes among his children, because\ntheir oil is good in diseases with which they may possibly be afflicted.\n\nThe number of persons in the United States who are mentally deranged, I\ndo not know; probably there are several thousands; and it is\nascertained, that one-third of those confined in the insane hospitals of\nPhiladelphia and New York, are rendered insane by the use of ardent\nspirits. Yes, one-third of the poor, miserable maniacs of our land, are\nmade such by the use of that which, in the opinion of some, is a very\nuseful and necessary article, and which they cannot do without. This\narticle has deprived one-third of the crazy wretches of our land of\ntheir reason--of that which makes them men--of the very image of their\nGod.\n\nOut of the number of the intemperate in the United States, ten thousand\ndie annually from the effects of ardent spirits. And what a death! To\nlive a drunkard is enough; but to die so, and to be ushered into the\npresence of your angry Judge, only to hear the sentence, \"Depart, thou\ndrunkard!\" Ah! language fails, and I leave it to your imagination to\nfill up the horrid picture.\n\nThis death happens in various ways. Some are killed instantly; some die\na lingering, gradual death; some commit suicide in fits of intoxication;\nand some are actually burnt up.\n\nI read of an intemperate man, a few years since, whose breath caught\nfire by coming in contact with a lighted candle, and he was consumed. At\nthe time, I disbelieved the story, but my reading has since furnished\nme with well authenticated cases of a combustion of the human body from\nthe use of ardent spirits. Trotter mentions ten such cases, and relates\nthem at length. They are attended with all the proof we require to\nbelieve any event. They are attested by living witnesses, examined by\nlearned men, and published in the journals of the day without\ncontradiction. It would be unnecessary to relate the whole, but I will\nstate one of them, and from this an idea can be formed of the rest. It\nis the case \"of a woman eighty years of age, exceedingly meagre, who had\ndrunk nothing but ardent spirits for several years. She was sitting in\nher elbow-chair, while her waiting-maid went out of the room for a few\nmoments. On her return, seeing her mistress on fire, she immediately\ngave an alarm; and some people coming to her assistance, one of them\nendeavored to extinguish the flames with his hands, _but they adhered to\nthem as if they had been dipped in brandy or oil on fire_. Water was\nbrought and thrown on the body in abundance, _yet the fire appeared more\nviolent, and was not extinguished till the whole body had been\nconsumed_. The lady was in the same place in which she sat every day,\nthere was no extraordinary fire, and she had not fallen.\"[B]\n\n   [Footnote B: Trotter on Drunkenness, pp. 78, 79.]\n\nThis, with nine other cases, related by the same author, was a\nconsumption of the body produced by the use of ardent spirits. The\nhorror of a drunkard's death beggars description. Need I point to yonder\ngrave, just closed over the remains of one who went from the cup of\nexcess to almost instant death? You all know it.\n\nBut this is not all. One half the poor you support by taxes and\nindividual charity, are made poor by the use of ardent spirits. This has\nbeen demonstrated by actual inquiry and examination. In the city of New\nYork, where there are more poor, and where more is done for them than\nin any other city of the United States, a committee appointed for the\npurpose, ascertained by facts, that more than one half of the city poor\nwere reduced to poverty by intemperance. This is also the case\nthroughout the Union. And here permit me to state a case, with which I\nam acquainted. I do it with a double object. I do it to show that the\nuse of ardent spirits produces poverty and distress, and the disuse of\nthem restores to wealth and comfort.\n\nA gentleman in the city of New York, who carried on ship-building on an\nextensive scale, and employed a great number of hands daily, and paid\nthem all in the same manner, and nearly to the same amount, was struck\nwith the difference in their situations. A few, and only a few, were\nable, from their wages, to support their families; but these were out of\ndebt, and independent in their circumstances. They always had money on\nhand, and frequently suffered their wages to lie in the hands of their\nemployer. The rest were poor and harassed, the former easy and\ncomfortable in their circumstances, and he resolved, if possible, to\nascertain the cause of the difference. On inquiry and examination, he\nfound that those of them who were above-board used no ardent spirits,\nwhile the others were in the constant and daily use of them. He\nsatisfied himself that this use of ardent spirits was the only cause of\nthe difference in their condition. He determined, if he could, to\nprevail upon them all to abstain altogether from their use. On a\nthorough and parental representation of the case to them, he succeeded,\nand they all agreed to make use of none for a year. At the end of the\nyear they were all, to a man, out of debt, had supported their families\nin better condition, had done more work, destroyed fewer tools, and were\nhearty and robust, and enjoyed better health.\n\nThis fact speaks volumes, and needs no comment. Adopt the same practice\nin this town, and the result will be the same. \"What, drink none?\" Yes,\nI say, drink none--one gallon for this town is just four quarts too\nmuch. In addition to the miseries of debt and poverty which they entail\nupon a community, they are the parent of one half the diseases that\nprevail, and one half the crimes that are committed. It is ardent\nspirits that fill our poor-houses and our jails; it is ardent spirits\nthat fill our penitentiaries, our mad-houses, and our state prisons; and\nit is ardent spirits that furnish victims for the gallows. They are the\ngreatest curse that God ever inflicted on the world, and may well be\ncalled the seven vials of his wrath. They are more destructive in their\nconsequences than war, plague, pestilence, or famine; yea, than all\ncombined. They are slow in their march, but sure in their grasp. They\nseize not only the natural, but the moral man. They consign the body to\nthe tomb, and the soul to hell.\n\nWhile on earth, the victim of intemperance is as stupid as an ass, as\nferocious as a tiger, as savage as a bear, as poisonous as the asp, as\nfilthy as the swine, as fetid as a goat, and as malignant as a fiend. No\nmatter what may be the original materials of the man; his figure may\npossess every grace of the sculptor; his mind may be imbued with every\nart and science; he may be fit to command at the head of armies, to sway\na Roman senate, to wield the destinies of nations; his heart may be the\nseat of every virtue; but ardent spirits will strip him of the whole,\nand convert him into a demon. Need I tell how? Need I point out the\nchange that ebriety produces in the moral and social affections? Need I\npresent the sword red with a brother's blood? It was in a drunken revel\nthat the infuriate Alexander slew his best friend and most beloved\ncompanion Clytus. And it was in a drunken revel that he proclaimed\nhimself a god, and died.\n\n\"But have not ardent spirits one good quality, one redeeming virtue?\"\nNone. I say, none. There is nothing, not even the shadow of a virtue, to\nrescue them from universal and everlasting execration.\n\n\"But they are good as a medicine.\" No, not as a medicine. There is no\nphysician, that does not love them, that needs them in his practice.\nThere is no disease that they cure or relieve, that cannot be cured or\nrelieved without them. They add to no man's health; they save no man's\nlife.[C]\n\n   [Footnote C: The writer is aware that spirits or alcohol are\n   necessary in some preparations of the chemist and apothecary.\n   But it is the use of them as drinks which he is combating, and\n   which, he is assured by respectable physicians, are not only\n   unnecessary, but hurtful, in sickness and in health. Were they\n   to exist only in the apothecary's shop in the state of\n   alcohol, it would be all that the world needs of them. Some\n   physicians, nevertheless, may think them useful in two or\n   three cases or conditions of the body; but it is apprehended,\n   that if they should discontinue the use of them altogether,\n   except in certain tinctures, etc., they would be as successful\n   as they now are. They are often used where they would not be,\n   if they were not the most common thing that could be found.]\n\nIt is impossible to name a single good thing that they do. Give them to\nthe divine; do they add to his piety, to his zeal, to his faithfulness,\nto his love of God or man? No; they destroy them all. Give them to the\nphysician; do they increase his skill, his power to discriminate amid\nthe symptoms of disease, his judgment to apply the appropriate remedies,\nhis kind and affectionate solicitude? Nay, verily, they destroy them\nall. Give them to the legal advocate; do they increase his knowledge,\nhis perception to discover the points of his case, his readiness to\napply the evidence, his ability to persuade a court and jury? No; they\ndestroy them all. Give them to the mechanic; do they assist his\ningenuity, his judgment, or his taste? No; they destroy them all. Give\nthem to the laborer; do they add to his strength? Do they enable him to\nbear fatigue, to endure heat and cold? Can he do more work, or do it\nbetter? No; they are the ruin of the whole. They reduce his strength,\nweaken his frame, make him more susceptible to heat and cold,\ndisorganize his whole system, and unfit him for labor.\n\n\"But there are some men,\" say you, \"who use ardent spirits, and who get\nalong very well.\" Admitted. They endure it. So there are some men who\nget along very well with poor health and feeble constitutions. Are poor\nhealth and feeble constitutions, therefore, no evils? Is the prosperity\nof such to be attributed to them? As much as is that of the former to\nthe use of ardent spirits. Was ever a man made rich by the use of ardent\nspirits? Never; but millions have been made beggars by it.\n\nYet some say, they _feel better_ by drinking ardent spirits. Let us\nexamine this excuse. It is nothing but an excuse, and he who loves rum\nand is ashamed to own it, says he feels better to drink it. Let us\ninquire how. Are they conducive to health? On this subject let the\nphysician decide. One, as great as this country has produced, Dr. Rush,\nsays that the habitual use of ardent spirits usually produces the\nfollowing diseases: A loss of appetite, sickness at the stomach,\nobstruction of the liver, jaundice and dropsy, hoarseness and a husky\ncough, which often ends in consumption, diabetes, redness and eruptions\nof the skin, a fetid breath, frequent and disgusting belchings,\nepilepsy, gout, and madness. This is the train of diseases produced by\nthe use of ardent spirits, and the usual, natural, and legitimate\nconsequences of their use. And now, I ask, can that which, of its own\nnature, produces these diseases, make a man feel better? Reason might\nanswer; and were she on her throne, uninfluenced and unbiassed by the\nlove of ardent spirits, she would unequivocally answer, No. And we find\nthat those who say they feel better to drink ardent spirits, are those\nwho are in health, but love rum, and it gratifies their appetite, and\nthis is what they mean by feeling better.\n\nI will examine for a moment the effect, the immediate effect of ardent\nspirits upon the man. I will take a man in health, and give him a glass\nof ardent spirits. The effect is, to produce mental derangement and\nfalse notions and conceptions. But one glass will not have much effect.\nI will give him another, and, if he loves rum, he feels better; another,\nand he feels better; another, better yet. By this time he has got to\nfeel pretty well; quite happy. He has no fear or shame. He can curse,\nand swear, and break things. \"He is fit for treason, stratagems, and\nspoils.\" He fears no consequences, and can accomplish impossibilities.\nIf he is a cripple, he fancies he can dance like a satyr; if he is slow\nand unwieldy, he can run like a hart; if he is weak and feeble in\nstrength, he can lift like Samson, and fight like Hercules; if he is\npoor and pennyless, he is rich as Croesus on his throne, and has money\nto lend. This is all a correct representation. It is what happens\nuniversally with the drunkard. I know one man who is intemperate, who is\npoor, and never known to have five dollars at a time, who, when he is\nintoxicated, has often, and does usually, offer to lend me a thousand\ndollars. Poor, miserable, and deluded man! But he feels well; he is one\nof those who feel better to drink. He is mentally deranged; his\nimagination is disordered. He fancies bliss, and felicity, and plenty,\nand abundance, which do not exist; and he awakes to misery, and poverty,\nand shame, and contempt. Yet this is the exact feeling of all those who\nfeel better to drink spirits. He who drinks but a glass, has not the\nsame degree, but precisely the same kind of feeling with the one I have\ndescribed.\n\nAnd this is all--this is all that rum does to make a man feel better. If\nhis wife and children are starving, he feels it not. He feels better. If\nhis affairs are going to ruin, or are already plunged into ruin, he is\nnot sensible to his condition. If his house is on fire, he sings the\nmaniac's song, and regards it not. He feels better.\n\nLet him who likes this better feeling enjoy it. Enjoy it, did I say? No.\nReclaim him, if possible. Convince him that he labors under a delusion.\nRestore him to truth, and to reason; banish the cup from his mouth, and\nchange the brute into the man.\n\nAnd now, need any more be said to persuade mankind to abandon the use of\nardent spirits? the appalling facts, in relation to them, are known to\nall. Experience and observation teach us that they are the source of\nruin, and misery, and squalid wretchedness, in a thousand shapes. They\nare the three-headed monster; they are the Gorgons with their thousand\nsnakes; their name is Legion. And shall I yet find advocates for their\nuse? Will this enlightened community yet say, they are useful and\nnecessary? All those who have used them, and discontinued the use of\nthem, say they are totally unnecessary and useless. We see that those\nwho live without them enjoy more happiness and better health than those\nwho use them--that they live longer lives. But oh, the folly, the\nstupidity, and the delusion of rum-drinkers!\n\nBut perhaps it may be said, that the effects and consequences that I\nhave mentioned, result from the abuse, and not from the proper and\nmoderate use of ardent spirits; and that on many occasions, in small\nquantities, they are useful. Let us examine the circumstances and\noccasions when they are said to be necessary; and perhaps I cannot do it\nbetter than in the words of another.\n\n\"They are said to be necessary in very _cold weather_. This is far from\nbeing true; for the temporary heat they produce is always succeeded by a\ngreater disposition in the body to be affected by cold. Warm dresses, a\nplentiful meal just before exposure to the cold, and eating occasionally\na cracker or any other food, is a much more durable method of preserving\nthe heat of the body in cold weather.\" In confirmation of this, the case\nof the vessel wrecked off the harbor of Newburyport, a few years since,\nmay be adduced. On an intensely cold night, when all the men of that\nvessel were in danger of freezing to death, the master advised them to\ndrink no ardent spirits. He told them, if they did, they must surely\nfreeze. Some took his advice, while others, notwithstanding his most\nearnest entreaties, disregarded it. The result was, that of those who\nused the spirits, some lost their hands, some their feet, and some\nperished; while the rest survived unhurt.\n\n\"They are said to be necessary in very _warm weather_. Experience proves\nthat they increase, instead of lessening the effects of heat upon the\nbody, and thereby expose it to diseases of all kinds. Even in the warm\nclimate of the West Indies, Dr. Bell asserts this to be true. Rum, says\nthis author, whether used habitually, moderately, or in excessive\nquantities, always diminishes the strength of the body, and renders man\nmore susceptible to disease, and unfit for any service in which vigor or\nactivity is required. As well might we throw oil into a house, the roof\nof which was on fire, in order to prevent the flames from extending to\nits inside, as pour ardent spirits into the stomach, to lessen the\neffects of a hot sun upon the skin.\" And here permit me to add, that\nthey are said to be necessary in cold weather to warm, and in warm\nweather to cool. The bare statement of the argument on these two points\nconfounds itself.\n\n\"Nor do ardent spirits lessen the effects of _hard labor_ upon the body.\nLook at the horse, with every muscle of his body swelled from morning\ntill night, in a plough or a team. Does he make signs for a glass of\nspirits, to enable him to cleave the ground or climb a hill? No; he\nrequires nothing but cold water and substantial food. There is no\nnourishment in ardent spirits. The strength they produce in labor is of\na transient nature, and is always followed by a sense of weakness and\nfatigue.\"[D]\n\n   [Footnote D: Dr. Rush.]\n\nSome people, nevertheless, pretend that ardent spirits add to their\nstrength, and increase their muscular powers; but this is all a\ndelusion. They think they are strong when they are weak. Rum makes them\nboast, and that is all. The truth is, it weakens them in body, but\nstrengthens them in imagination. Was not one reason why Samson was\nforbidden by the angel of God to drink either wine or strong drink, that\nhe might thus increase and preserve his strength? When you hear a man\ntelling how strong rum makes him, you may be sure he is weak, both in\nbody and mind.\n\nThere is one other occasion for using ardent spirits, which it will be\nproper to examine. They are said to be necessary to keep off the\n_contagion_ of disease, and are recommended to attendants upon the sick.\nBut the united testimony of all physicians proves, that the intemperate\nare first attacked by epidemic disorders. This is almost universally the\ncase in the southern states, and in the West Indies. Experience also\nproves that those attendants upon the sick, who refrain from the use of\nardent spirits, escape, while those who use them are swept away. If\nfacts could convince, the use of ardent spirits would be abolished. But\nthe love of rum is stronger on the human mind than the truth of Heaven.\n\nIf, then, ardent spirits are not necessary in sickness; if they do not\nprevent the effects of heat and cold; if they do not add to our\nstrengths, and enable us to perform more labor; when are they\nnecessary? Why, people in health say, they want to drink them now and\nthen--they do them good. What good? If they are well, why do they need\nthem? For nothing but to gratify the taste, and to produce a feeling of\nintoxication and derangement, slight in its degree when moderately used,\nas they are by such people, but the character of the feeling is no less\ncertain. It is the same feeling that induces the drunkard to drink. One\nman takes a glass to do him good, to make him feel better; another wants\ntwo; another three; another six; and by this time he is intoxicated, and\nhe never feels well till he is so. He has the same feeling with the man\nwho drinks a single glass, but more of it; and that man who, in health,\ndrinks one glass to make him feel better, is just so much of a drunkard;\none-sixth, if it takes six glasses to intoxicate him. He has one-sixth\nof the materials of a drunkard in his constitution.\n\nBut it is this _moderate use_ of ardent spirits that produces all the\nexcess. It is this which paves the way to downright and brutal\nintoxication. Abolish the ordinary and temperate use of ardent spirits,\nand there would not be a drunkard in the country. He who advises men not\nto drink to excess, may lop off the branches; he who advises them to\ndrink only on certain occasions, may fell the trunk; but he who tells\nthem not to drink at all, strikes and digs deep for the root of the\nhideous vice of intemperance; and this is the only course to pursue. It\nis this temperate use of ardent spirits that must be discontinued. They\nmust be no longer necessary when friends call, when we go to the store\nto trade, to the tavern to transact business, when we travel the road on\npublic days--in fact, they must cease to be fashionable and customary\ndrinks. Do away the fashion and custom that attend their use, and change\nthe tone of public feeling, so that it will be thought disgraceful to\nuse them as they are now used by the most temperate and respectable\nmen, and an end is for ever put to the prevalence of the beastly disease\nof intoxication. Let those who cannot be reclaimed from intemperance go\nto ruin, and the quicker the better, if you regard only the public good;\nbut save the rest of our population; save yourselves; save your\nchildren! Raise not up an army of drunkards to supply their places.\nPurify your houses. They contain the plague of death; the poison that,\nin a few years, will render some of your little ones what the miserable\nwretches that you see staggering the streets are now. And who, I ask,\nwould not do it? What father, who knew that one of his sons that he\nloves was, in a few years, to be what hundreds you can name are now,\nwould hesitate, that he might save him, to banish intoxicating drinks\nfrom his premises for ever?\n\nBut if all will do it, he is saved; and he who contributes but a mite in\nthis work of God, deserves the everlasting gratitude of the republic. If\nthe names of a Brainerd, of a Swartz, of a Buchanan, have been rendered\nimmortal by their efforts to convert the heathen to Christianity, the\nnames of those men who shall succeed in converting Christians to\ntemperance and sobriety, should be written in letters of ever-during\ngold, and appended by angels in the temple of the living God. The sum of\ntheir benevolence would be exceeded only by His, who came down from\nheaven for man's redemption. Then banish it; this is the only way to\nsave your children. As long as you keep ardent spirits in your houses,\nas long as you drink it yourselves, as long as it is polite and genteel\nto sip the intoxicating bowl, so long society will remain just what it\nis now, and so long drunkards will spring from your loins, and so long\ndrunkards will wear your names to future generations. And there is no\nother way given under heaven, whereby man can be saved from the vice of\nintemperance, but that of _total abstinence_.\n\nAnd, if ardent spirits are the parent of all the poverty, and disease,\nand crime, and madness, that I have named, and if they produce no good,\nwhat rational man will use them? If he loves himself, he will not; if he\nloves his children, he will not; and as Hamilcar brought Hannibal to the\naltar, at eight years of age, and made him swear eternal hatred to the\nRomans, so every parent should bring his children to the altar, and make\nthem swear, if I may so speak, eternal hatred to ardent spirits. He\nshould teach them by precept and example. He should instil into his\nchildren a hatred of ardent spirits, as much as he does of falsehood and\nof theft. He should no more suffer his children to drink a little, than\nhe does to lie a little, and to steal a little.\n\nAnd what other security have you for your children, or for yourselves?\nYes, for yourselves. I knew a man who, a few years ago, was as temperate\nas any of you; was as respectable as any of you, as learned as any of\nyou, and as useful in life as any of you; I have heard him from the\nsacred desk again and again; but by the same use of ardent spirits that\nmost men justify and advocate, under the mistaken notion that they were\nbeneficial to him, he has at last fallen the victim of intemperance. And\nthis is not a solitary example. I had almost said, it is a common\nexample. I could easily add to the number.\n\nAnd now, what security have you for yourselves? You have none but in the\ncourse I have recommended. If it is necessary for the intemperate man to\nwrite on every vessel containing ardent spirits, \"Taste not, touch not,\nhandle not,\" and to brand them as full of the very wrath of God, it is\nalso necessary for the temperate man to do so, to save himself from\nintemperance.\n\nBut the difficulty on this subject is to convince men of their\nindividual danger; that intemperance stands at their own doors, and is\nknocking for an entrance into their own houses; that they and their\nchildren are the victims that he seeks.\n\nBut if the places of the present generation of drunkards are to be\nsupplied, whence will the victims come but from your own children? And\nwho knows but that the infant the mother is now dandling upon her knee,\nand pressing to her bosom, however lovely he may appear, however\nrespectable and elevated she is, will be selected to be one of that\ndegraded, and squalid, and filthy class that, in her old age, will walk\nthe streets as houseless, hopeless, and abandoned drunkards? You have no\nsecurity, no assurance.\n\nBut we are apt to think that the wretches whom we see and have described\nwere always so; that they were out of miserable and degraded families;\nand that they are walking in the road in which they were born. But this\nis not so. Among the number may be found a large proportion who were as\nlovely in their infancy, as promising in their youth, and as useful in\nearly life, as your own children, and have become drunkards--I repeat\nit, and never let it be forgotten--_have become drunkards by the\ntemperate, moderate, and habitual use of ardent spirits, just as you use\nthem now_. Were it not for this use of ardent spirits, we should not now\nhear of drunken senators and drunken magistrates; of drunken lawyers and\ndrunken doctors; churches would not now be mourning over drunken\nministers and drunken members; parents would not be weeping over drunken\nchildren, wives over drunken husbands, husbands over drunken wives, and\nangels over a drunken world.\n\nThen cease. No longer use that which is the source of infinite mischief,\nwithout one redeeming benefit; which has entailed upon you, upon your\nchildren, and upon society, woes unnumbered and unutterable. Banish it\nfrom your houses: it can be done. You have only to will, and it is\neffected. Use it not at home. Let it never be found to pollute your\ndwellings. Give it not to your friends or to your workmen. Touch it not\nyourselves, and suffer not your children to touch it; and let it be a\npart of your morning and evening prayer, that you and your children may\nbe saved from intemperance, as much as from famine, from sickness, and\nfrom death.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nReader, have you perused this pamphlet; and are you still willing to\ndrink, use, or sell this soul-destroying poison? If so--if you are\nwilling to risk your own soul, disgrace your friends, and ruin your\nchildren by this fell destroyer, then go on; but remember, that to the\ndrunkard is allotted the \"blackness of darkness and despair for ever.\"\nBut if not--if you feel the magnitude of the evil; if you are willing to\ndo something to correct it, sit not down in hopeless silence, but arouse\nto action; \"resist the devil, and he will flee from you;\" not only\nbanish it from your houses, but from your stores, your shops, your\nfarms; give it not to your workmen; refuse to employ those who use it;\ninvite, entreat, conjure your friends and neighbors to refrain wholly\nfrom the use of it; never forgetting that the day of final account is at\nhand; that what we do for Christ, and for the good of our fellow-men,\nmust be done soon; and that those who sacrifice interest for the sake of\nconscience, and who are instrumental in turning men from their errors,\nshall not lose their reward.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThis address was originally delivered before a large public meeting in\nLyme, New Hampshire, Jan. 8, 1827.\n\n\n\n\nAPPEAL TO YOUTH.\n\nA TRACT FOR THE TIMES.\n\nBY REV. AUSTIN DICKINSON.\n\n\nTo arrest a great moral evil, and elevate the general standard of\ncharacter in a community, the influence of the young is all-important.\n_They_ can, if they please, put an end to the most demoralizing scourge\nthat has ever invaded our country, and introduce a state of society far\nmore pure and elevated than the world has yet seen.\n\nConsider then, beloved youth, some of the numerous motives for\nabstaining from intoxicating liquor and other hurtful indulgences, and\nemploying your time and faculties with a view to the highest improvement\nand usefulness.\n\nThe use of such liquor, as a beverage, _will do you no good_. It will\nnot increase your property or credit: no merchant would deem a relish\nfor it any recommendation for a clerk or partner in business. It will\nnot invigorate your body or mind; for chemistry shows, that alcohol\ncontains no more nutriment than fire or lightning. It will not increase\nthe number of your respectable friends: no one, in his right mind,\nwould esteem a brother or neighbor the more, or think his prospects the\nbetter, on account of his occasional use of intoxicating liquor. Nor\nwill it in the least purify or elevate your affections, or help to fit\nyou for the endearments of domestic life, or social intercourse; but on\nthe contrary, Scripture and observation alike testify, that wine and its\nkindred indulgences \"_take away the heart_.\" Why, then, should a\nrational being, capable of the purest happiness, and capable of blessing\nothers by an example of temperance, indulge in a beverage in no respect\nuseful to those in health, but the occasion of countless miseries!\n\nBut strict temperance has a direct influence on _the health and vigor of\nboth mind and body_. The most eminent physicians bear uniform testimony\nto its propitious effect. And the Spirit of inspiration has recorded,\n_He that striveth for the mastery, is temperate in all things_. Many\nstriking examples might be adduced. The mother of Samson, that prodigy\nof human strength, was instructed by an angel of God to preserve him\nfrom the slightest touch of \"wine, or strong drink, or any unclean\nthing.\" And Luther, who burst the chains of half Europe, was as\nremarkable for temperance, as for great bodily and intellectual vigor.\nSir Isaac Newton, also, while composing his Treatise on Light, a work\nrequiring the greatest clearness of intellect, it is said, very\nscrupulously abstained from all stimulants. The immortal Edwards, too,\nrepeatedly records his conviction and experience of the happy effect of\nstrict temperance, both on mind and body. And recent reformations from\nmoderate drinking have revealed numerous examples of renovated health\nand spirits in consequence of the change.\n\nBut not to multiply instances, let any youth, oppressed with heaviness\nof brain or dulness of intellect, judiciously try the experiment of\n_temperance in all things_, united with habitual activity, and he will\nbe surprised at the happy effect.\n\nConsider, again, that _in the purest state of morals, and the most\nelevated and refined circles, the use of intoxicating drink is now\ndiscountenanced, and regarded as unseemly_. Inspiration has declared,\n\"It is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink.\" And\nwho would not regard any of the truly noble, as lowering themselves by\ndisparaging this sentiment? What clerical association, or what\nconvention of philanthropists, would now be found \"mingling strong\ndrink?\" What select band of students, hoping soon to officiate honorably\nat the altar of God, before the bench of justice, or in the chamber of\naffliction, would now call for brandy or wine? What circle of refined\nfemales would not feel themselves about as much degraded by familiarity\nwith such indulgences, as by smoking, or profane language? Or what\nparent, inquiring for an eligible boarding-school, would think of\nasking, whether his son or daughter might there have the aid of such\nstimulus, or the example of its use? If, then, intoxicating liquor is\nthus disparaged in the most moral and intelligent circles, why should it\nnot be universally abjured by individuals? Why should not the young,\nespecially, of both sexes, keep themselves unspotted, and worthy of the\nmost elevated society?\n\nConsider, moreover, that if the habit of drinking be indulged, _it may\nbe difficult, if not impossible, should you live, to break off in more\nadvanced life_. Thus, even in this day of reform, there are individuals,\ncalling themselves respectable, so accustomed to drink, or traffic in\nthe poison, that all the remonstrances of philanthropists and friends,\nthe wailings of the lost, the authority of Heaven, and the anathema of\npublic sentiment combined, cannot now restrain them. Let the youth,\nthen, who turns with shame from such examples of inconsistency, beware\nof a habit so hardening to the conscience, so deadening to the soul.\n\nBut, to increase your contempt for the habit of drinking, think how it\nespecially prevails _among the most degraded portions of the community_.\nInquire through the city, or village, for those who are so polluted as\nto be shut out from all decent society--so inured to vice that they\ncannot be looked upon but with utter disgust; learn their history, and\nyou invariably find that the insidious glass has been their companion,\ntheir solace, and their counsellor. And should not dark suspicion and\ndecided reprobation be stamped upon that which is thus associated with\nthe lowest debasement and crime?\n\nSuch drink, in its very nature, has a perverting and debasing\ntendency--leading to foul speeches, foolish contracts, and every sensual\nindulgence. Those under its influence will say and do, what, in other\ncircumstances, they would abhor: they will slander, reveal secrets,\nthrow away property, offend modesty, profane sacred things, indulge the\nvilest passions, and cover themselves and friends with infamy. Hence the\nsolemn caution, \"Look not thou on the wine, when it giveth its color in\nthe cup: at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an\nadder: thine eyes shall behold strange women, and thy heart utter\nperverse things.\" Those who, by gaming or intrigue, rob others of their\nproperty, and those who allure \"the simple\" to ruin, it is said, fully\nunderstand its perverting influence. \"Is it not a little one?\" say they;\nand so the unwise are \"caused to fall, by little and little.\"\n\n    \"She urged him still to _fill another cup_;\n    * * * and in the dark, still night,\n    When God's unsleeping eye alone can see,\n    He went to her adulterous bed. At morn\n    I looked, and saw him not among the youths;\n    I heard his father mourn, his mother weep;\n    For none returned that went with her. The dead\n    Were in her house; her guests in depths of hell:\n    She wove the winding-sheet of souls, and laid\n    Them in the urn of everlasting death.\"\n\nSuch is ever the tendency of the insidious cup. For the unerring word\ndeclares, \"Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging; and whosoever is\ndeceived thereby _is not wise_.\" \"They are out of the way through strong\ndrink; they err in vision, they stumble in judgment.\"\n\nIndeed, _the whole spirit of the Bible_, as well as uncorrupted taste,\nis in direct hostility to this indulgence. Its language in regard to all\nsuch stimulants to evil is, _Touch not, taste not, handle not_. And to\nsuch as glory in being above danger, it says, with emphasis, \"We, then,\nthat are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and _not to\nplease ourselves_.\"\n\nHe who hath declared, _Drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom of God_,\ncannot, surely, be expected to adopt, as heirs of his glory, any who,\nunder all the light that has been shed on this subject, perseveringly\nresolve to sip the exhilarating glass for mere selfish pleasure, when\nthey know that their example may probably lead others to endless ruin.\nCommon sense, as well as humanity, revolts at the thought.\n\nOn the other hand, strict temperance is pleasing to the Most High.\nHence, it is said of him who was honored to announce the Saviour's\nadvent, \"He shall be great in the sight of the Lord, and shall drink\nneither wine nor strong drink.\"\n\nMoreover, the habit of strict temperance, being allied to other virtues,\nwill secure for you the _respect and confidence of the best portions of\nthe community_, as well as the approbation of God, and thus lead to your\nmore extensive usefulness. The youth who promptly comes up to the pledge\nand practice of total abstinence, and persuades others to do so, gives\nevidence of decision and moral courage--gives evidence of an intellect\npredominating over selfish indulgence, and superior to the laugh of\nfools; and such is the man whom an intelligent community will delight to\nhonor.\n\nBut you are to live, not merely for self-advancement, or happiness:\nconsider, then, that _true patriotism and philanthropy rightfully\ndemand_ your cordial support of the Temperance cause. A thick, fiery\nvapor, coming up from the pit, has been overspreading our whole land and\nblighting half its glory. Thousands, through the noxious influence of\nthis vapor, have yearly sunk to that pit, to weep and lament for ever.\nThousands more are groping their miserable way thither, who, but for\nthis pestilence, might be among our happiest citizens. Still greater\nnumbers, of near connections, are in consequence, covered with shame.\nAh, who can say, he has had no relative infected by this plague? But\nProvidence, in great mercy, has revealed the only effectual course for\nexterminating the plague--_total abstinence from all that can\nintoxicate_. And the adoption of this course, instead of involving any\nreal sacrifice, might be an annual saving to the nation of _many\nmillions of dollars_. What youth, then, who loves his country, will not\ncheerfully cooperate with the most respected of every profession in\nencouraging this course? Who does not see its certain efficacy, and the\ngrandeur of the result?\n\nWere a foreign despot, with his armies, now invading our country, every\nyouthful bosom would swell with indignation. And will you not combine to\narrest the more cruel despot, Intemperance, whose vessels are daily\nentering our ports, whose magazines of death are planted at the corners\nof our streets, and whose manufactories are like \"the worm that dieth\nnot, and the fire that is not quenched?\"\n\nWere all who have, in the compass of a year, been found drunk in the\nland, assembled in one place, they would make a greater army than ever\nBonaparte commanded. And yet, unless patriot hearts and hands interpose,\nmyriads more, from generation to generation, coming on in the same\ntrack, will go down like these to the drunkard's grave.\n\nWere all the thousands that annually descend to the drunkard's grave,\ncast out at once into an open field, their loathsome carcases would\ncover many acres of ground. And yet the _source_ of all this pollution\nand death is moderate drinking.\n\nWere the thousands of distilleries and breweries, still at work day and\nnight in the land, placed in one city or county, they would blacken all\nthe surrounding heavens with their smoke. And could all the oaths,\nobscenities, and blasphemies they occasion every hour, be uttered in one\nvoice, it would be more terrific than \"seven thunders.\"\n\nAnd are those armies of drunkards, that liquid fire, those carcases of\nthe slain, those ever-burning manufactories, and those blasphemies in\nthe ear of Heaven, less appalling, less stirring to patriotism, because\nscattered throughout the land? Shall there be no burst of indignation\nagainst this monster of despotism and wickedness, because he has\n_insidiously_ entered the country, instead of coming in by bold\ninvasion? Shall he still deceive the nation, and pursue his ravages? Or\nshall he not, at once, be arrested, when it can be done without cost,\nand with infinite gain?\n\nIt must not be forgotten, that, in this country, every drunkard has\nequal power in the elective franchise with the most virtuous citizen.\nNor must it be forgotten, that should the reform now cease, and\nintemperance again increase for the fifty years to come, in only the\nsame ratio that it did for twenty years previous to the commencement of\ngeneral reform in 1826, about one-third of our voters would be\ndrunkards. What, then, would be the character of our beloved republic?\n\nBut should intemperance increase in that ratio for _eighty_ years, a\n_majority_ of our voters would be drunkards, and our population amount\nto several hundred millions. Who then could turn back the burning tide;\nor who could govern the maddening multitudes?\n\nIt is not a vain thing, then, that patriots have waked up to this\nsubject. Their trumpet should now thrill through the land, and urge all\nthe young to enlist, at once, on the side of virtue. These can, if they\nwill, cause the river of abominations to be dried up.\n\nBut the subject of temperance has still another aspect, far more\nserious. It must be a solemn consideration to such as realize, in any\nmeasure, the worth of the soul and the necessity of its regeneration,\nthat indulgence in the use of intoxicating drink, in this day of light,\n_may grieve the Holy Spirit_, whose presence alone can insure salvation.\nIndeed, to say nothing of the deadening influence of such liquor on the\nconscience, unless heaven and hell can mingle together, we cannot,\nsurely, expect God to send _his_ Spirit to cooperate _with that_ which\nis peculiarly offensive to the most devoted and self-denying of his\nfriends, and which Satan employs, more than any other agent, in fitting\nmen for his service. For, \"what communion hath light with\ndarkness?\"--\"what concord hath Christ with Belial?\" Beware, then, of the\narch-deceiver, in this matter. \"It is not a vain thing for you, because\nit is your life.\"\n\nIt is obvious that if such stimulants were wholly done away, _the Gospel\nwould have far mightier sway_, and human nature generally assume a\nhigher character. Pure moral stimulus would take the place of what is\nlow, sensual, and selfish. Better health, better temper, higher\nintellect, and more generous benevolence would everywhere appear.\n\nIt is obvious, likewise, that Providence has great designs to be\naccomplished by the younger portions of this generation. Unto us are\ncommitted those oracles which declare, \"Instead of thy fathers shall be\nthy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth.\" And\nalready do I see, in the silent kindling of unnumbered minds, in our\nSabbath-schools and other institutions, the presage of unexampled good\nto the nations. Who, then, of the rising race, is so dead to generous\nfeeling, so deaf to the voice of Providence, so blind to the beauty of\nmoral excellence, that he will not now aspire to some course of worthy\naction? Let this motto, then, stand out like the sun in the firmament:\nHE THAT STRIVETH FOR THE MASTERY, IS TEMPERATE IN ALL THINGS.\n\nOne word in reference to making and observing a _pledge_ for abstinence.\nAs it respects yourself, it will show a resolute, independent mind, and\nbe deciding the question once for all, and thus supersede the necessity\nof deciding it a thousand times, when the temptation is offered. It\nwill, moreover, supersede the inconvenience of perpetual warfare with\nappetite and temptation. And as it respects others, of feebler minds, or\nstronger appetites, your _example_ may be immeasurably important.\nMultitudes may thus be secured to a life of sobriety, who, but for this\npledge, would never have had the requisite firmness. Your influence may\nthus extend on the right hand and on the left, and down to future ages;\nand by such united pledges and efforts, countless multitudes may be\nsaved from a life of wretchedness, a death of infamy, and an eternity of\nwoe.\n\nBut does any one still say, \"I will unite in no pledge, because in no\ndanger?\" Suppose _you are safe_; have you then no _benevolence_? Are you\nutterly _selfish_? Think of the bosom now wrung with agony and shame,\nover a drunken husband, or father, or brother. And have you no _pity_?\nThink of the millions of hopes, for both worlds, suspended on the\nsuccess of the temperance cause. And will you do nothing to speed its\ntriumph?\n\nDo you say, your influence is of no account? It was one \"poor man\" that\nsaved a \"little city,\" when a \"great king besieged it.\" Another saved a\n\"great city,\" when the anger of Jehovah was provoked against it. Small\nas your influence may be, you are accountable to God and your country;\nand your finger may touch some string that shall vibrate through the\nnation.\n\nBut are you conscious of possessing talent? Then rally the circle of\nyour acquaintance, and enlist them in the sacred cause. And do you save\na little by abstinence? Then _give_ a little to extend the benign\ninfluence. What youth cannot, at least, circulate a few Tracts, and\nperhaps enlist as many individuals? And who can estimate the endless\ninfluence of those individuals, or their capacity for rising with you in\ncelestial splendor?\n\nBut have you wealth, or power with the pen? Then speak by ten thousand\ntongues: send winged messengers through the city, the country, the town,\nthe village, the harbor; and thus may you enjoy _now_ the highest of all\nluxuries--the luxury of _doing good_. And, at the same time, trusting in\nHIM who came from the abodes of light, \"to seek and save the lost,\" you\nmay secure _durable riches_ in that world, where, saith the Scripture,\nneither _covetous_, nor _drunkards_, nor extortioners, nor revilers, nor\nthe _slothful_, nor mere _lovers of pleasure_, nor _any thing that\ndefileth_, shall ever enter; but where THEY THAT BE WISE shall shine\nforth as the brightness of the firmament for ever and ever.\n\nWhen these opposite characters and their changeless destinies are\n_seriously_ weighed, none, surely, can hesitate which to prefer. But,\n\"what thou doest, do quickly.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTE.--A premium of fifty dollars, offered by a friend, was awarded to\nthe author of this Tract.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nALARM TO DISTILLERS.\n\nBY REV. BAXTER DICKINSON, D. D.\n\n\nThe art of turning the products of the earth into a fiery spirit was\ndiscovered by an _Arab_, about nine hundred years ago. The effects of\nthis abuse of nature's gifts were soon viewed with alarm. Efforts were\nmade, even by a heathen people, to arrest the evil; and it shows the\nmighty agency and cunning of Satan, that Christian nations should ever\nhave been induced to adopt and encourage this deadliest of man's\ninventions. In the guilt of encouraging the destructive art, our own\nfree country has largely participated. In the year 1815, as appears from\nwell-authenticated statistics, our number of distilleries had risen to\nnearly _forty thousand_; and, until within a few years past, the\nprogress of intemperance threatened all that was fair and glorious in\nour prospects. The reformation recently commenced is one of the grandest\nmovements of our world; and to secure its speedy triumph, the\nconcurrence of distillers is obviously indispensable. They must cease to\nprovide the destroying element. This they are urged to do by the\nfollowing considerations:\n\n1. The business of distilling _confers no benefits on your fellow-men_.\nArdent spirit is not needed as an article of living. In the first ages\nof the world, when human life was protracted to hundreds of years, it\nwas unknown. By the first settlers of this country it was not used. It\nwas scarcely used for a whole century. And those temperate generations\nwere remarkably robust, cheerful, and enterprising. To this we may add,\nthat several hundred thousand persons, accustomed to use it, have given\nit up entirely within a few years past; and their united testimony is,\nthat they have made no sacrifice either of health, or strength, or any\nreal comfort. Indeed few, if any, except such as have the intemperate\nappetite, will now seriously contend that distilled liquor is necessary\nor useful. The little that may perhaps be desirable as medicine, might\nbe made by the apothecary, or the physician.\n\nThe talents God has given you _might_ be applied to advance the welfare\nof your fellow-men. It is your duty--your highest _honor_--thus to apply\nthem. And on the bed of death, in near prospect of the judgment, it will\nsurely be a melancholy reflection that, as regards the happiness of\nmankind, your life has been an utter _blank_.\n\n2. The business of distilling is not only useless, but _is the occasion\nof many and great evils_. Recent examination has developed a number of\nappalling facts, which few, if any, pretend to question. It is admitted\nthat the use of ardent spirit has been a tax on the population of our\ncountry, of from _fifty to a hundred millions of dollars_ annually. It\nis admitted that three-fourths of all the _crimes_ of the land result\nfrom the use of intoxicating liquor. It is admitted that at least\nthree-fourths of all the sufferings of _poverty_ arise from the same\nsource. It is admitted that upwards of _thirty thousand_ of our citizens\nhave annually descended to the _drunkard's grave_. It is admitted, by\nthose who believe the Bible, that _drunkards shall not inherit eternal\nlife_, but must _have their part in the lake that burneth with fire and\nbrimstone_. In a word, it is admitted that health, fortune, social\nhappiness, intellect, conscience, heaven, are all swept away by the tide\nof intemperance.\n\nAnd now, what you are specially bound to ponder is, that this burning\ntide, with all its desolations, flows from those very fountains _you_\nhave opened--the boiling flood can be perpetuated only by those fires\nwhich _your_ hands kindle, and which it is your daily task to tend.\n\nThe position you occupy, then, is one of most fearful responsibility.\nYou are directly and peculiarly accessary to a degree of guilt and\nmisery which none but the infinite mind can comprehend. I hear for you a\nloud remonstrance from every court of justice, from every prison of\ncollected crime, from every chamber of debasement, and from every\ngraveyard, as well as from the dark world of despair. I hear the cries\nof unnumbered mothers, and widows, and orphans, all with one voice\nimploring you to extinguish those fires, to dry up those fountains, and\nto abandon an occupation pregnant with infamy, and death, and perdition.\n\n3. The business of distilling _destroys, to a great extent, the bounties\nof Providence_. Many of the substances converted into ardent spirit are\nindispensable to the comfort of man--some of them the very staff of\nlife. But the work of distillation not only destroys them as articles of\nfood, but actually converts them to poison. An incalculable amount of\ngrain, and tens of thousands of hogsheads of sugar and molasses, besides\nenormous quantities of other useful articles, are every year thus\nwickedly perverted in this Christian land. Who does not know the odious\nfact that, in many places, the _distillery_ has regulated the price of\nbread? Who does not know that this engine of iniquity has at times so\nconsumed the products of industry as to make it difficult for the poorer\nclasses to get a supply? \"The poor we have always with us;\" and cries of\nthe suffering are often heard from other lands. Such facts, it would\nseem, might reach the conscience of all who are wantonly destroying\nHeaven's gifts. Can you, for a little selfish gain, persist in\nconverting the bread of multitudes into pestilential fire? How utterly\nunlike the example of Him who, while feeding thousands by miracle, could\nstill say, \"Gather up the fragments which remain, that nothing be lost.\"\n\n4. By continuing this destructive business, _you greatly offend the\nvirtuous and respectable part of the community_. The temperance\nreformation has been commenced and prosecuted by enlightened men. It is\nnot the enterprise of any political party or religious sect. It has the\ngeneral support of ministers and Christians of different denominations,\nof statesmen, judges, lawyers, physicians, and hundreds of thousands in\nthe walks of private life. They regard the enterprise as one, on the\nsuccess of which hang the liberties of our republic and the happiness of\nfuture millions.\n\nYou cannot be surprised, then, that they look with pain on operations\ndirectly adapted to defeat their plans, and perpetuate the dread evil\nthey deplore. You cannot suppose that their eye will light on the\n_fountains_ of this mighty evil but with inexpressible grief, disgust,\nand indignation. And if you have the common magnanimity of our nature,\nyou will surely cease to outrage the feelings of the virtuous throughout\nthe nation.\n\n5. You pursue a pernicious calling, _in opposition to great light_. The\ntime was when good men extensively engaged in the distilling business,\nand when few seemed to be aware of its fearfully mischievous tendency.\nThe matter had not been a subject of solemn and extensive discussion.\nThe sin was one of comparative ignorance. But circumstances have\nchanged. Inquiry has thrown upon the community a flood of light. The\nevil of intemperance has been exhibited in its complicated horrors.\nArdent spirit has been found to be not only useless, but fearfully\ndestructive; so that the guilt of manufacturing it is now enormously\naggravated.\n\nGood men were once engaged in importing slaves. They suspected not the\niniquity of the business; and an apology can be offered for them, on the\nground of ignorance. But their trade has now come to be regarded by the\ncivilized world in the same odious light as piracy and murder. The man\nwho engages in it is stamped with everlasting infamy. And the reason is,\nthat, like the distiller, he now sins amid that fulness of light which\nan age of philanthropy has poured around him.\n\n6. Perseverance in the business of distilling _must necessarily be at\nthe expense of your own reputation and that of your posterity_. You are\ncreating and sending out the materials of discord, crime, poverty,\ndisease, and intellectual and moral degradation. You are contributing to\nperpetuate one of the sorest scourges of our world. And the scourge can\nnever be removed till those deadly fires you have kindled are all put\nout. That public sentiment which is worthy of respect calls upon you to\nextinguish them. And the note of remonstrance will wax louder and\nlouder till every smoking distillery in the land is demolished. A free\nand enlightened people cannot quietly look on while an enemy is working\nhis engines and forging the instruments of national bondage and death.\n\nWithout a prophet's vision, I foresee the day when the manufacture of\nintoxicating liquor, for common distribution, will be classed with the\narts of counterfeiting and forgery, and the maintenance of houses for\nmidnight revelry and corruption. Like these, the business will become a\nwork only of darkness, and be prosecuted only by the outlaw.\n\nWeigh well, then, the bearing of your destructive employment on personal\nand family _character_. The employment may secure for you a little gain,\nand perhaps wealth. But, in a day of increasing light and purity, you\ncan never rid treasures, thus acquired, of a _stigma_, which will render\nhim miserably poor who holds them. Upon the dwelling you occupy, upon\nthe fields you enclose, upon the spot that entombs your ashes, there\nwill be fixed an indescribable gloom and odiousness, to offend the eye\nand sicken the heart of a virtuous community, till your memory shall\nperish. Quit, then, this vile business, and spare your name, spare your\nfamily, spare your children's children such insupportable shame and\nreproach.\n\n7. By prosecuting this business _in a day of light and reform, you\npeculiarly offend God, and jeopard your immortal interests_. In \"times\nof ignorance,\" God, in a sense, \"winked at\" error. But let the error be\npersisted in under a full blaze of light, and it must be the occasion of\na dread retribution from his throne.\n\nThe circumstances of the distiller are now entirely changed. His sin was\nonce a sin of ignorance, but is such no longer. He _knows_ he is taking\nbread from the hungry, and perverting the bounties of Providence. He\n_knows_ he is undermining the very pillars of our republic. He _knows_\nthat, by distilling, he confers no benefits upon mankind. He _knows_ he\nis directly accessory to the temporal wretchedness and the endless\nwailing of multitudes. And knowing these things, and keeping on his\nway, he accumulates guilt which the Holy One cannot overlook. If endless\nexclusion from heaven be the drunkard's doom, can _he_ be held guiltless\nwho deliberately prepared for him, and perhaps placed in his hand, the\ncup of death and damnation? This is not the decision either of Scripture\nor of common sense. Wilfully persevering to furnish the sure means of\ndeath, you carry to the judgment the murderer's character as clearly as\nthe midnight assassin.\n\nAnd now, what is the APOLOGY for prosecuting a business so manifestly\noffensive to God, and ruinous to yourself, as well as others? Do you\nsay, _It is necessary as a means of support_? But whence have you\nderived authority to procure a living at the sacrifice of conscience,\ncharacter, and the dearest interests of others? And is the maintenance\nof a _public nuisance_ really necessary to your support? In a country\nlike this, the plea of necessity for crime is glaringly impious. Many\nand varied departments of honest and honorable industry are before you,\nall promising a generous reward; and, neglecting them for a wicked and\nmischievous occupation, you must bear the odium of a most sordid\navarice, or implacable malignity.\n\nYou virtually, too, impeach the character of God. You proclaim that he\nhas made your comfort, and even subsistence, to depend upon the practice\nof iniquity. It is an imputation he must repel with abhorrence and\nwrath. Nor is it sustained by the conscience, reason, or experience of\nany man.\n\nBut possibly you urge, in self-justification, _Others will manufacture\nspirit, if I do not_. But remember, the guilt of one is no excuse for\nanother. \"Every one of us shall give account of _himself_ to God.\" If\nothers pursue a business at the sacrifice of character and of heaven, it\nbecomes you to avoid their crime, that you may escape their doom.\n\nIt is not certain, however, that others will prosecute the destructive\nbusiness, if you abandon it. Men of fore-thought will not now embark\ntheir silver and gold on a pestilential stream, soon to be dried up\nunder that blaze of light and heat which a merciful God has enkindled.\nThey will not deem it either wise or safe to kindle unholy and deadly\nfires where the pure river of the water of life is so soon to overflow.\nIn the eye of thousands, the distillery on your premises adds nothing to\ntheir value. Indeed, should they purchase those premises, the filthy\nestablishment would be demolished as the first effort of improvement.\nAnd every month and hour is detracting from its value, and blackening\nthe curse that rests upon it.\n\nLet the thousands now concerned in distilling at once put out their\nfires, and the act would cause one general burst of joy through the\nnation; and any effort to rekindle them would excite an equally general\nburst of indignation and abhorrence. None but a monster of depravity\nwould ever make the attempt.\n\nBut again, perhaps you say, _No one is obliged to use the spirit that is\nmade_. But remember, that you make it only to be used. You make it with\nthe desire, with the hope, with the expectation that it will be used.\nYou know it has been used by thousands--by millions--and has strewed the\nland with desolation, and peopled hell with its victims; and you cannot\nbut acknowledge that you would at once cease to make the liquor, did you\nnot _hope it would continue to be used_. Indeed, you must see that _just\nin proportion to your success_ will be the amount of mischief done to\nyour fellow-men.\n\nIt seems hardly needful to say that the foregoing considerations are all\nstrictly applicable to SUCH AS FURNISH THE MATERIALS for the distiller.\nWere these withheld, his degrading occupation would of course cease. By\nsuffering, then, the fruits of your industry to pass into his hands, you\nperpetuate his work of death. You share all his guilt, and shame, and\ncurse. And remember, too, that the bushel of grain, the barrel of cider,\nthe hogshead of molasses, for which you thus gain a pittance, may be\nreturned from the fiery process only to hasten the infamy and endless\nruin of a beloved son, or brother, or friend.\n\nNor is the crime of the RETAILER of ardent spirit essentially\ndifferent. He takes the poison from the distiller, and insidiously deals\nit out to his fellow-men. It is truly stirring to one's indignation to\nnotice his variety of artifice for rendering it enticing. His occupation\nis one which the civil authorities have, in some places, with a noble\nconsistency, ceased to tolerate; and one which must soon be put down by\nthe loud voice of public sentiment.\n\nIndeed, the _retailer_, the _distiller_, and he who _furnishes the\nmaterials_, must be looked upon as forming a TRIPLE LEAGUE, dangerous\nalike to private and social happiness, and to the very liberties of the\nnation. And an awakened people cannot rest till the deadly compact is\nsundered. Why not, then, anticipate a little the verdict and the\nvengeance of a rising tone of public sentiment, and at once proclaim the\n_unholy alliance_ dissolved? Why not anticipate the verdict of an\ninfinitely higher tribunal--why not believe God's threatening, and\nescape the eternal tempest that lowers for _him who putteth the cup to\nhis neighbor's lips_? Why not cooperate promptly in a public reform that\nis regarded with intense interest in heaven, on earth, and in hell?\n\nO review, as men of reason, and conscience, and immortality, this whole\nbusiness. And if you have no ambition to _benefit your fellow-men_--if\nyou can consent _to ruin many for both worlds_--if you can persist in\n_wasting and perverting the bounties of a kind Providence_--if you can\noutrage the feelings of the most _enlightened and virtuous_--if you can\npursue a work of darkness _amid noonday light_--if you can sacrifice a\n_good name_, and entail _odium on all you leave_--and if you can\ndeliberately _offend God_, and jeopard _your immortal interests_ for\npaltry gain, then go on--go on a little longer; but, \"O MY SOUL, COME\nNOT THOU INTO THEIR SECRET; UNTO THEIR ASSEMBLY, MINE HONOR, BE NOT THOU\nUNITED.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNOTE.--A premium, offered by a friend of temperance, was awarded to the\nauthor of this Tract.\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nPUTNAM AND THE WOLF;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE MONSTER DESTROYED.\n\nAN ADDRESS ORIGINALLY DELIVERED AT POMFRET, CONN.,\n\nBY REV. JOHN MARSH.\n\n[Illustration: Weeping drunk with wife and child]\n\n\nI remember, when a boy, reading a story which chilled my blood in my\nveins; but which taught me never to sit down and try to bear an evil\nwhich might, by bold and persevering effort, be remedied. The story was\nthis. A certain district of country was infested by a wild beast. The\nnuisance was intolerable. The inhabitants rallied, and hunted it day and\nnight, until they drove it into a deep den. There, with dogs, guns,\nstraw, fire, and sulpher, they attacked the common enemy; but all in\nvain. The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused to return. The\nsmoke of blazing straw had no effect; nor had the fumes of burnt\nbrimstone. The ferocious animal would not quit its retirement. And now\nthe shadows of evening gathered around them. The clock struck nine, and\nten. And should they lose their prey? They must, unless some one should\nbe so daring as to descend into this den of monsters and destroy the\nenemy. One man offered to go; but his neighbors remonstrated against the\nperilous enterprise. Perilous indeed it was; but live so they could not,\nand stripping off his coat and waistcoat and having a long rope fastened\nround his legs, by which he might be pulled back, he entered with a\nflaming torch in his hand, head foremost. The most terrifying darkness\nappeared in front of the dim circle afforded by his light. It was still\nas the house of death. But proceeding onwards with unparalleled courage,\nhe discovered the glaring eyeballs of the ferocious beast, who was\nsitting at the extremity of the cavern. For a moment he retreated; but\nagain descended with his musket. The beast howled, rolled its eyes,\nsnapped its teeth, and threatened him with instant death, when he\nlevelled, fired, and brought it forth dead, to the view of his trembling\nand exulting neighbors.\n\nLittle did I then think that I should one day see the country rallied on\nthe same spot, to hunt a more terrible monster, whose destruction will\nrequire Putnam courage.\n\nThe old enemy, gentlemen, which your fathers hunted about these hills\nand dales, was visible to the eye, and could be reached with powder and\nball; but the enemy whom you assault is, like the foe of human bliss\nwhich entered the garden of Eden, invisible, and therefore not to be\ndescribed, and not to be destroyed by force of arms. That enemy did,\nindeed, to effect his purpose, assume the form of a serpent; and ours\nhas been said, as belonging to the same family, to have occasionally the\nsame aspect. A gentleman in Missouri has recently described a dreadful\nworm which, he says, infests that country. \"It is of a dead lead color,\nand generally lives near a spring, and bites the unfortunate people who\nare in the habit of going there to drink. The symptoms of its bite are\nterrible. The eyes of the patient become red and fiery; the tongue\nswells to an immoderate size and obstructs utterance, and delirium of\nthe most horrid character ensues. The name of this reptile is, 'THE WORM\nOF THE STILL.'\" I suspect it is one of the same family which is\ninfesting the peaceful villages of New England, and whose ravages have\nalarmed the country, and caused you this day to leave your homes and\nseek its destruction. I would not here inquire minutely into its\nhistory. It is said to have originated in Arabia, the country of the\nfalse prophet. The aborigines of our forests never knew it. They could\nproudly tread on the rattlesnake and copperhead, but never fell before\nthe worm of the still. O woful day when it found its way to our coasts;\nwhen here it first generated its offspring.\n\nYet there are men who think we belie it; who say that we are needlessly\nalarmed; that we are hunting a friend; that we are driving one from our\ncountry without whose aid we can never check the ravages of disease, or\nperform our labor, or have any hilarity. It is not, say they, a\npoisonous foe. It is a pleasant cordial; a cheerful restorative; the\nfirst friend of the infant; the support of the enfeebled mother; a sweet\nluxury, given by the parent to the child; the universal token of\nkindness, friendship, and hospitality. It adorns the sideboards and\ntables of the rich, and enlivens the social circles of the poor; goes\nwith the laborer as his most cheering companion; accompanies the mariner\nin his long and dreary voyage; enlivens the carpenter, the mason, the\nblacksmith, the joiner, as they ply their trade; follows the merchant to\nhis counter, the physician to his infected rooms, the lawyer to his\noffice, and the divine to his study, cheering all and comforting all. It\nis the life of our trainings, and town-meetings, and elections, and\nbees, and raisings, and harvests, and sleighing-parties. It is the best\ndomestic medicine, good for a cold and a cough, for pain in the\nstomach, and weakness in the limbs, loss of appetite and rheumatism,\nand is a great support in old age. It makes a market for our rye and\napples; sustains 100,000 families who are distilling and vending, and\npours annually millions of dollars into our national treasury. Had the\nwolf possessed the cunning of the fox, she would have told Putnam as\nsmooth a story as this. But it would have made no difference. The old\nman's cornfields were fattened by the blood of his sheep, and he would\ngive no quarter. And the blood of our countrymen has been poured out at\nthe shrine of the demon Intemperance, and we must give none. Talk we of\nalcohol as a friend! As well may a mother praise the crocodile which has\ndevoured her offspring.\n\nLook, my countrymen, at the ravages of intemperance. Fix your eye on its\nwaste of property.\n\nAt the lowest calculation, it has annually despoiled us of a hundred\nmillions of dollars--of thirty millions for an article which is nothing\nworth, and seventy or eighty millions more to compensate for the\nmischiefs that article has done--money enough to accomplish all that the\nwarmest patriot could wish for his country, and to fill, in a short\nperiod, the world with Bibles and a preached Gospel. What farmer would\nnot be roused, should a wild beast come once a year into his borders and\ndestroy the best cow in his farmyard? But 6-1/4 cents a day for ardent\nspirit wastes $22 81 cents a year, and in 40 years nearly $1,000, which\nis a thousand times as much as scores of drunkards are worth at their\nburial.\n\nSee the pauperism it has produced. We have sung of our goodly heritage,\nand foreign nations have disgorged their exuberant population that they\nmight freely subsist in this land of plenty. But in this granary of the\nworld are everywhere seen houses without windows, fields without\ntillage, barns without roofs, children without clothing, and\npenitentiaries and almshouses filled to overflowing; and a traveller\nmight write--BEGGARS MADE HERE. We are groaning under our pauperism, and\ntalking of taxes, and hard times, and no trade; but intemperance has\nstalked through our land and devoured our substance. It has entered the\nhouses of our unsuspecting inhabitants as a friend, and taken the food\nfrom their tables, and the clothing from their beds, and the fuel from\ntheir fire, and turned their lands over to others, and drove them from\ntheir dwellings to subsist on beggary and crime, or drag out a miserable\nexistence in penitentiaries and almshouses. Two-thirds, or 150,000 of\nthe wretched tenants of these abodes of poverty in the United States,\nwere reduced by intemperance. So themselves confess. It was rum, brandy,\nand whiskey, that did it. And the Prison Discipline report tells of\n50,000 cases of imprisonment for debt annually in the United States, in\nconsequence of the use of ardent spirits. O, its sweeps of property can\nnever be known.\n\nLook at the crime it has occasioned.\n\nIt is said that there is a spring in China which makes every man that\ndrinks it a villain. Eastern tales are founded on some plain matter of\nfact. This spring may be some distillery or dram-shop; for this is the\nnatural effect of alcohol. It breaks down the conscience, quickens the\ncirculation, increases the courage, makes man flout at law and right,\nand hurries him to the perpetration of every abomination and crime.\nExcite a man by this fluid, and he is bad enough for any thing. He can\nlie, and steal, and fight, and swear, and plunge the dagger into the\nbosom of his nearest friend. No vice is too filthy, no crime too\ntragical for the drunkard. The records of our courts tell of acts\ncommitted under the influence of rum, which curdle the blood in our\nveins. Husbands butcher their wives; children slaughter their parents.\nFar the greater part of the atrocities committed in our land, proceed\nfrom its maddening power. \"I declare in this public manner, and with the\nmost solemn regard to truth,\" said Judge Rush, some years ago in a\ncharge to a grand jury, \"that I do not recollect an instance since my\nbeing concerned in the administration of justice, of a single person\nbeing put on his trial for manslaughter which did not originate in\ndrunkenness; and but few instances of trial for murder where the crime\ndid not spring from the same unhappy cause.\" Of 895 complaints presented\nto the police court in Boston in one year, 400 were under the statute\nagainst common drunkards. Of 1,061 cases of criminal prosecution in a\ncourt in North Carolina, more than 800 proceeded from intemperance. Five\nthousand complaints are made yearly in New York to the city police of\noutrages committed by intoxicated persons; and the late city attorney\nreports, that of twenty-two cases of murder which it had been his duty\nto examine, every one of them had been committed in consequence of\nintemperate drinking. \"Nine-tenths of all the prisoners under my care,\"\nsays Captain Pillsbury, warden of our own state prison, \"are decidedly\nintemperate men, and were brought to their present condition, directly\nor indirectly, through intoxicating liquor. Many have confessed to me\nwith tears, that they never felt tempted to the commission of crime,\nthus punishable, but when under the influence of strong drink.\" And the\nPrison Discipline report states, \"that of 125,000 criminals committed to\nour prisons in a single year, 93,750 were excited to their commission of\ncrime by spirituous liquors.\"\n\nLook at its destruction of intellect.\n\nIt reduces man to a beast, to a fool, to a devil. The excessive drinker\nfirst becomes stupid, then idiotic, then a maniac. Men of the finest\ngeniuses, most acute minds, and profound learning, have dwindled under\nthe touch of this withering demon to the merest insignificance, and been\nhooted by boys for their silly speeches and silly actions, or chained in\na madhouse as unsafe in society. Of eighty-seven admitted into the New\nYork hospital in one year, the insanity of twenty-seven was occasioned\nby ardent spirit; and the physicians of the Pennsylvania hospital\nreport, that one-third of the insane of that institution were ruined by\nintemperance. What if one-sixth of our maniacs were deprived of their\nreason by the bite of the dogs, the friendly inmates of our houses, or\nby some vegetable common on our table; who would harbor the dangerous\nanimal, or taste the poisonous vegetable? But, one-third of our maniacs\nare deranged by alcohol. Indeed, every drunkard is in a temporary\ndelirium; and no man who takes even a little into his system, possesses\nthat sound judgment, or is capable of that patient investigation or\nintellectual effort, which would be his without it. Just in proportion\nas man comes under its influence, he approximates to idiotism or\nmadness.\n\nLook at its waste of health and life.\n\nThe worm of the still, says the Missouri gentleman, never touches the\nbrute creation, but as if the most venomous of all beings, it seizes the\nnoblest prey. It bites man. And where it once leaves its subtle poison,\nfarewell to health--farewell to long life. The door is open, and in rush\ndyspepsia, jaundice, dropsy, gout, obstructions of the liver,\nepilepsy--the deadliest plagues let loose on fallen man--all terminating\nin delirium tremens or mania a potu, a prelude to the eternal buffetings\nof foul spirits in the world of despair. One out of every forty, or\nthree hundred thousand of our population, have taken up their abode in\nthe lazar-house of drunkenness, and thirty thousand die annually the\ndeath of the drunkard. These sweeps of death mock all the ravages of\nwar, famine, pestilence, and shipwreck. The yellow-fever in\nPhiladelphia, in 1793, felt to be one of the greatest curses of heaven,\ndestroyed but four thousand. In our last war the sword devoured but five\nhundred a year: intemperance destroys two hundred a week. Shipwrecks\ndestroy suddenly, and the country groans when forty or fifty human\nbeings are suddenly engulfed in the ocean; but more than half of all the\nsudden deaths occur in fits of intoxication. It needed not a fable to\naward the prize of greatest ingenuity in malice and murder to the demon\nwho invented brandy, over the demon who invented war.\n\nLook at its murder of souls.\n\nNot satisfied with filling jails, and hospitals, and graveyards, it must\npeople hell. Every moral and religious principle is dissipated before\nit. The heart becomes, under its influence, harder than the nether\nmill-stone. It has gone into the pulpit and made a Judas of the minister\nof Christ. It has insinuated itself into the church, and bred\nputrefaction and death among the holy. It has entered the anxious room\nin seasons of revival, and quenched conviction in the breast of the\ndistressed sinner, or sent him, exhilarated with a false hope, to\nprofess religion, and be a curse to the church. It has accompanied men,\nSabbath after Sabbath, to the house of God, and made them insensible as\nblocks of marble to all the thunders of Sinai and sweet strains of Zion.\nIt has led to lying, profane swearing, Sabbath-breaking, tale-bearing,\ncontention; and raised up an army, I may almost say, in every village,\nwho wish for no Sabbath, and no Bible, and no Saviour, and who cry out\nwith stammering tongues, \"Away with him, crucify him.\" It has, without\ndoubt, been the most potent of all the emissaries of Satan, to\nobliterate the fear of the Lord, turn men away from the Sabbath and the\nsanctuary, steel them against the word, the providence, and grace of\nGod, stupefy the conscience, bring into action every dark and vile\npassion, and fill up with immortal souls the dark caverns of eternal\nnight. Let a man, day by day, hover around a dram-shop, and sip and sip\nat his bottle, and the devil is sure of him. No ministers, no Sabbaths,\nno prayers, no tears from broken-hearted and bleeding relatives, can\navail to save him. He holds that man by a chain which nothing but\nOmnipotence can break.\n\nAnd look, too, at its waste of human happiness.\n\nYes, look--look for yourselves. The woes of drunkenness mock all\ndescription. Some tell of the happiness of drinking. O, if there is a\nwretched being on earth, it is the drunkard. His property wasted, his\ncharacter gone, his body loathsome, his passions wild, his appetite\ncraving the poison that kills him, his hopes of immortality blasted for\never; it is all\n\n                       \"Me miserable,\n    Which way I fly is hell, myself am hell.\"\n\nAnd his family. I can never look at it but with feelings of deepest\nanguish.\n\n\n   \"Domestic happiness, thou only bliss\n    Of paradise that hast escaped the fall,\"\n\nthou art shipwrecked here. Sorrow, woe, wounds, poverty, babblings, and\ncontention, have entered in and dwell here. Yet we have 300,000 such\nfamilies in the land; and if each family consists of four individuals,\nmore than a million persons are here made wretched by this curse of\ncurses.\n\nAnd his death. O, to die in our houses, amid our friends, and with the\nconsolations of religion, strips not death of its character as the king\nof terrors. But to die as the drunkard dies, an outcast from society, in\nsome hovel or almshouse, on a bed of straw, or in some ditch, or pond,\nor frozen in a storm; to die of the _brain-fever_, conscience\nupbraiding, hell opening, and foul spirits passing quick before his\nvision to seize him before his time--this, this is woe; this is the\ntriumph of sin and Satan. Yet, in the last ten years, 300,000 have died\nin our land the death of the drunkard; rushing, where?--\"Drunkards shall\nnot inherit the kingdom of God\"--rushing into hell, where their worm\ndieth not, and their fire can never be quenched. And if the demon is\nsuffered to continue his ravages, 300,000 more of our existing\npopulation will, in the same way, rush into eternal burnings.\n\nAnd his funeral. Have you ever been at a drunkard's funeral? I do not\nask, did you look at his corpse? It was cadaverous before he died. But\ndid you look at his father as he bent over the grave and exclaimed in\nagony, \"O, my son, my son, would to God I had died for thee, my son.\"\nDid you look at his widow, pale with grief, and at his ragged,\nhunger-bitten children at her side, and see them turn away to share the\nworld's cold pity, or, perhaps, rejected and forlorn, follow the same\npath to death and hell?\n\nSuch are the ravages of the demon we hunt. Its footsteps are marked with\nblood. We glory in our liberties, and every fourth of July our bells\nring a merry peal, as if we were the happiest people on earth. But O,\nour country, our country! She has a worm at her vitals, making fast a\nwreck of her physical energies, her intellect, and her moral principle;\naugmenting her pauperism and her crime; nullifying her elections--for a\ndrunkard is not fit for an elector--and preparing her for subjection to\nthe most merciless tyranny that ever scourged any nation under heaven.\nWe talk of our religion, and weep over the delusions of the false\nprophet and the horrors of Juggernaut; but a more deceitful prophet is\nin our churches than Mahomet, and a more bloody idol than Juggernaut\nrolls through our land, crushing beneath its wheels our sons and our\ndaughters. Woe, woe, woe to Zion. Satan is in Eden. And if no check is\nput to the ravages of the demon, our benevolent institutions must die,\nour sanctuaries be forsaken, our beautiful fields be wastes, and the\nchurch will read the history of her offspring in the third of Romans:\n_Their throat is an open sepulchre; their mouth is full of cursing and\nbitterness; their feet are swift to shed blood_--all, blasting our\nbright hope of the speedy approach of millennial glory.\n\nThere is cause, then, for the general alarm that has been excited in our\ncountry; reason for this extensive and powerful combination to hunt and\ndestroy the monster. Much, by divine help, has been done. He has been\nrouted and brought to the light of day; the mischief he has done has\nbeen exposed; his apologists have been confronted; he is driven into his\nden, and now how can he be destroyed? That he must be destroyed there\ncan be no question. The man who does not wish for the suppression of\nintemperance must have the heart of a fiend; especially, if he wishes to\ngrow rich on the miseries of his fellow-men. And he must be destroyed\nnow. It is now or never. Men may say enough has been done, and talk\nabout his being held where he is. He cannot be held there. He has the\ncunning of a serpent, and he will escape through some fissure in the\nrock. He is now in our power. The temperance movement, which has on it\nthe impress of the finger of God, has brought him within our grasp; and\nif we let him escape, the curse of curses will be entailed upon our\nchildren. How then can he be destroyed? I answer, and thousands answer,\nby starvation. No weapon can reach him so long as you feed him. But who\nhas a heart so traitorous to humanity as to feed this monster? Every man\nwho now, in the face of the light that is shed upon this subject,\ndistils, or vends, or uses intoxicating liquor; every distillery, and\nevery dram-shop in the land, nourishes this foe to human peace; every\nman who takes the alcoholic poison into his system, or imparts it to\nothers, except as he takes and imparts other poisons to check disease,\ngives life to the beast. I need not stop to prove it. It is manifest to\nthe child. Let every distillery in the land cease, and every dram-shop\nbe closed, and total abstinence become the principle of every\nindividual, and the demon will be dead; yes, take away from him his\nwine, his brandy, and his whiskey, and he will perish for ever. But here\nis the very brunt of the battle. We have hunted the monster through the\nland, and driven him into his den; and now we must stand at the very\nmouth of the cavern, and contend with our fellow-men and\nfellow-sufferers--yes, and fellow-Christians too--who are either afraid\nto attack the monster, or are determined he shall live.\n\nAnd first, we are met by a body of men who tell us that alcohol is\nuseful. And what if it is? What if every benefit that the moderate and\nimmoderate drinker can think of, flows from it? What will this do to\ncompensate for its giant evils which are desolating our land? Is man so\nbent on self-gratification that he will have every sweet, though it be\nmingled with poison? Will he exercise no reason; make no discrimination\nbetween unmixed good and good followed by desolating woes? Tea was good.\nBut, said our fathers, if with it we must have all the horrors of\nBritish tyranny, away with it from our dwellings. My countrymen, \"the\nvoice of your fathers' blood cries to you from the ground, 'My sons,\nscorn to be slaves!'\" Away with the shameful plea that you cannot do\nwithout an article which subjects you to an evil ten thousand times\nworse than all the horrors of British tyranny. You kindle the fires of\nliberty by pointing to the woes of the prison-ship, and the bones of\nyour countrymen whitening on the shores of New Jersey. O, crouch not to\na tyrant who binds a million in his chains, and demands thirty thousand\nannually for his victims. I blush for the imbecility of the man who must\nhave an article on his farm which eats up his substance and his vitals,\nand may turn his son into an idiot and a brute. Better have no farm.\nBetter go at once, with his family, into the poor-house, and be\nsupported by public charity.\n\nNext comes canting Hypocrisy, with his Bible in his hand, telling us\nthat \"every creature of God is good, and nothing to be refused, if it be\nreceived with thanksgiving.\" What does he mean; that ardent spirit is\nthe gift of God? Pray, in what stream of his bounty, from what mountain\nand hill does it flow down to man? O, it is in the rye, and the apple,\nand the sugar, and the Mussulman has taught us Christians how to distil\nit. And so the poet tells us Satan taught his legions how to make\ngunpowder. \"There are,\" said he,\n\n   \"Deep under ground, materials dark and crude,\n    Of spirituous and fiery spume.\n    These, in their dark nativity, the deep\n    Shall yield us, pregnant with internal flame;\n    Which, into hollow engines, long and round,\n    Thick ramm'd, at th' other bore with touch of fire\n    Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth\n    From far, with thundering noise, among our foes\n    Such implements of mischief as shall dash\n    To pieces and o'erwhelm whatever stands\n    Adverse.\n    Th' invention all admired; up they turn'd\n    Wide the celestial soil; sulphurous and nitrous foam\n    They found, they mingled; and, with subtle art\n    Concocted and adjusted, they reduced\n    To blackest grain.\"\n\nAnd now, to carry out the argument, gunpowder, and guns, and swords, are\nthe gift of God, and men must needs use them, and kill one another as\nfast as possible.\n\nBut nothing, it is plead, was made in vain. Spirit is good for\nsomething, and to banish it from use, and promise that we will \"touch\nnot, taste not, handle not,\" is contempt of the works of God. I should\nlike to have seen what the Pomfret hero would have done with a man who\nshould have stood before him, and said, Don't you destroy that wolf; God\nmade it, and it may be good for something.\n\nNext, we are checked in our principle of starvation by a set of\nthoughtless youth and presumptuous men, who say there is no danger from\nthe demon if we keep him low. All his ravages have been occasioned by\nhis being full fed. Let him sip but little, feed him _prudently_, and he\nwill do no harm.\n\n\"Good,\" says the demon, growling in his den; \"that is all I want. The\ndoctrine of prudent use is the basis of my kingdom. Temperate drinking\nhas made all the drunkards in the land, and keep it up in all your towns\nand villages, and I shall be satisfied.\"\n\nO the delusion! Prudent use! What is the testimony of every chemist and\nphysician in the land? Alcohol is a _poison_.\n\n\"Not a bloodvessel,\" says Dr. Mussey, \"however minute, not a thread of\nnerve in the whole animal machine escapes its influence. It disturbs the\nfunctions of life; it increases for a time the action of the living\norgans, but lessens the power of that action; hence the deep depression\nand collapse which follow preternatural excitement. By habitual use it\nrenders the living fibre less and less susceptible to the healthy\noperation of unstimulating food and drink, its exciting influences soon\nbecome incorporated with all the living actions of the body, and the\ndiurnal sensations of hunger, thirst, and exhaustion, are strongly\nassociated with the recollection of its exhilarating effects, and thus\nbring along with them the resistless desire for its repetition.\" More\nthan fifty per cent. of common spirits are alcohol, this deadly\nsubstance, holding rank with henbane, hemlock, prussic acid, foxglove,\npoison sumach. Nausea, vertigo, vomiting, exhilaration of spirits for a\ntime, and subsequent stupor, and even total insensibility and death, are\ntheir accompaniments. Broussais remarks, \"A single portion of ardent\nspirit taken into the stomach produces a temporary phlogosis.\" Now, I\nsubmit it to every considerate man, whether there can be any prudent use\nof a poison, a single portion of which produces the same disease of\nwhich the drunkard dies, and a disease which brings along with it a\nresistless desire for a repetition of the draught.\n\nThoughtless, self-sufficient men say, they can control this desire, can\ngovern their appetite, can enjoy the exhilaration of strong drink, and\nyet be temperate. Let them look at the poor inebriate wallowing in his\npollution. He once stood just where they stand; boasted just as they\nboast; had as fair character, and as kind friends, and as precious a\nsoul and bright hopes of heaven as they have. Let them tell why he does\nnot control his appetite. Perhaps they say, he is a fool. Ah, what made\nhim a fool? Or, his reason is gone. And what took away his reason? Or,\nhe has lost his character. And what took away his character? Or, his\nsense of shame is departed. And what took away his sense of shame? Ah,\nhere is the dreadful secret, which it may be well for all, boasting of\ntheir power of self-control, to know. At the very moment when the man\nthinks he stands firm, and reason can control appetite, his moral sense\ndeparts, his shame is gone, and he turns, through the power of his\nmorning bitters and oft-repeated drams, into the brute and the maniac.\nWith the moral sensibilities laid waste, reason here has only the power\nof the helmsman before the whirlwind. \"Twenty years ago,\" says Nott, \"a\nrespectable householder came in the morning with a glass of bitters in\nhis hand, and offered it to his guest, saying, 'Take it; it will do you\ngood. I have taken it for some years, and I think it does me good; and I\nnever want any more.' Time passed on, and presently the bottle of\nbitters in the closet was exchanged for the barrel of whiskey in the\ncellar; and the poor man was often at the tap for just as much as would\ndo him good, and he never wanted any more. Time passed on, and a\nhogshead was needful; and its contents were exhausted with the same\nintent, and the same self-deceivings. At length the home of his family\nwas relinquished to his creditors; his polluted body was lodged in a\njail, from which he presently issued a drunken vagabond, and wandered a\nwretched being, until he found a drunkard's grave.\" It is but the\nhistory of thousands. No laws of nature act with more uniformity than\nthe laws of intemperance. No inoculation sends with more certainty\ndisease into the system than drinking strong drink. Hundreds have made\nan agonizing struggle to escape from perdition. They have seen their sin\nand danger; they have walked the streets in agony; they have gone to\ntheir homes and looked at their wives and children, and into the pit of\ndespair. But their feverish stomach has cried, Give, give! and they have\ndrank often and often, with the solemn promise that it should be the\nlast time; until they have exclaimed, with a once interesting youth, \"I\nknow I am a ruined man, but I cannot stop.\"\n\nSome, indeed, through much care and strength of constitution, may\nescape; but the plague, if it appear not in their skin and their bone,\nmay break out in their children. \"I will drink some,\" said an aged\ndeacon of a church of Christ; \"for it does me good.\" God was merciful,\nthough he tempted Heaven, and it is said that he died with his character\nuntarnished; but six loathsome sons drank up his substance, with the\nleprosy in their foreheads. What a meeting must there be between that\ndeacon and his sons on the judgment-day! The doctrine of prudent use\nmust be abandoned. It can have no standard. Every man thinks he drinks\nprudently, whether he takes one glass a day or five, and is just as much\nexcited and just as liable to drunkenness as all drunkards were when\nthey stood where he now stands. He only that entirely abstains can\nproperly be called a temperate man. And he only is clear from the guilt\nof spreading intemperance through the land. Moderate drinkers are the\nlife of this bloody system which is wringing with agony the hearts of\nthousands. Did all at once drink to excess, alcohol would be viewed with\ndread, as is laudanum and arsenic. Better that all who tasted it were\nat once made drunkards; then, drunkards would be as scarce as suicides.\nBut men now sip moderately and are reputable; they think themselves\nsafe, but one in every forty sinks to drunkenness; and thus, among\ntwelve millions of people, drinking moderately, the demon has\nperpetually 300,000 victims. And for these, while all are thus paying\nhomage to the bottle, what is the hope? The lost wretch may wake from\nhis brutality and crime, and resolve that he will reform, and his\nbroken-hearted wife may hope that the storms of life are over, and his\nbabes may smile at his strange kindness and care; but the universal\npresence of the intoxicating fluid, and the example of the wise and the\ngood around him, will thwart all his resolutions, and he will go back,\nlike the dog to his vomit. All the drunkenness, then, that shall pollute\nour land, must be traced to moderate drinkers. They feed the monster.\nThey keep in countenance the distillery and the dram-shop, and every\ndrunkard that reels in the streets. Moderate use is to this kingdom of\nblood what the thousand rivulets and streams are to the mighty river. O\nhow have we been deceived. We long searched for the poison that was\ndestroying our life. The drop said, It is not in me--I am but a drop,\nand can do no harm. The little stream said, It is not me. Am I not a\nlittle one, and can do no harm? And the demon Intemperance, as she\nprowled around us, said, Let my drops and my rivulets alone; they can do\nno harm. Go stop, if you can, the mighty river. We believed her. But the\nriver baffled our efforts. Its torrents rolled on, and we contented\nourselves with snatching here and there a youth from destruction. But we\nnow see that the poison is in the drops and the rivulets; and that\nwithout these, that river of death, which is sweeping the young and the\nold into the ocean of despair, would cease for ever. And we call upon\nthese self-styled prudent, temperate drinkers, to pause and look at the\ntremendous responsibility and guilt of entailing drunkenness upon their\ncountry for ever.\n\nBut we are met with more serious opposers to the plan of starvation.\nThey are, they say, the bone and muscle of the country. They come from\nthe farms, the shipyards, and workshops, and say, If you starve out this\nmonster, _we_ shall be starved out, for we cannot do our work and get a\nliving without rum or whiskey; though, according to their own\nconfession, they have found it hard living with. Their rum and their\nwhiskey have cost them double and treble their other taxes--their sons\nhave become vile, their workmen turbulent, their tools have been broken,\nand many of themselves are already sinking under its enfeebling\ninfluence.\n\nWith such it is hard to reason. They have tried but one side, and are\nincapable of judging the case. We can only tell them there is no danger.\nNot a particle of nourishment does spirit afford them. The hard drinker\ntotters as he walks. The poor inebriate can neither stand nor go. We can\npoint them to hundreds and thousands of their own profession, honest\nmen, who solemnly testify that they are healthier and stronger, can\nperform more labor, and endure the frosts of winter and heat of summer\nbetter without it than with it. We can ask them whether they fully\nbelieve that the God of heaven, a God of love, has put them under the\ndire necessity of using daily an article which, with such awful\ncertainty, makes drunkards; and whether, when he has said, Woe to him\nthat giveth his neighbor drink, he has said, too, you must all drink it;\nit is necessary for you. But such never can be taught and convinced but\nby experience; and to such we would say, Try it for yourselves.\n\nOur next opposition, gentlemen, is from a band clothed in\nwhite--professors of our holy religion--enlisted soldiers of Christ,\nengaged to every work of benevolence: they come--O tell it not in\nGath!--to intercede for the monster, and oppose our enterprise. Is not\nthis, you ask, a libel? Alas, too often, reports of temperance societies\ntell of opposition from professors of religion.\n\nWhat can be the meaning of this? Has not intemperance been the greatest\ncurse to the church? Has it not caused her to bleed at every pore? And\nhave not her members cried to heaven that the destroyer might perish?\nAnd now, when God has put into their hands a weapon by which it may at\nonce be exterminated, will they hesitate? Will they hang back? Will they\nsay, we cannot make the sacrifice? O where lies this astonishing\nwitchery? What has put the church to sleep? What has made her angry at\nthe call to come out from the embrace of her deadliest foe? O what has\nhe, who drinks the cup of the Lord, to do with the cup of devils? Does\nhe need it to make him serious or prayerful, or to enable him better to\nunderstand the word of God, or bear reproach for Christ, or discharge\nhis Christian duties, or open his heart in charity? Does it not palsy\nthe heart, quench the spirit of prayer, seal up every holy and\nbenevolent feeling, and turn many from Christ, that they walk no more\nwith him? What can a professor mean who refuses to enlist under the\ntemperance banner? Does he really want the monster to live? Does he pray\nthat he may? Will he stand aloof from this conflict? Is he determined to\ndeny himself in nothing? To care not if others perish? To risk shipwreck\nof character and conscience, and to keep in countenance every drunkard\nand dram-shop around him? Is it nothing to him that intemperance shall\nspread like a _malaria_, to every city, and village, and neighborhood,\nuntil the land shall send up nothing but the vapors of a moral\nputrefaction, and none shall here pray, or preach, or seek God; but\nignorance, and crime, and suffering, withering comfort and hope, shall\ngo hand in hand, until we can be purified only by a rain of fire and\nbrimstone from heaven? O for shame, for shame! Let the Christian,\npleading for a little intoxicating liquor, be alarmed; let him escape\nas for his life from the kingdom of darkness. \"Come out of her, my\npeople, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of\nher plagues.\"\n\nNext to diseased appetite, the love of money is the most potent\nprinciple in the breast of depraved man. Thirty-six thousand distillers,\nand eighty-five thousand venders of ardent spirits in our land, form a\ntremendous host in opposition to our enterprise. They live everywhere.\n\n   \"Pass where we may, through city or through town,\n    Village or hamlet, of this merry land,\n    * * * * every twentieth pace\n    Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff\n    Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the sties\n    That law has licensed, as makes Temperance REEL.\"\n\nThey live wherever the demon has his haunts. Or rather, he lives where\nthey live; for they feed him. And while he fattens on the article they\nmake and vend, they receive in return the silver and gold of his deluded\nvictims. Now, how can this formidable host, who cry out, Our craft is in\ndanger, by this demon we have our wealth--how can they be met? Can they\nbe met at all? Yes, they can--for they are men; generally reputable men;\nin cases not a few, pious men; and all have consciences, and may be made\nto feel their accountableness to God. Now let them be told that they\nkeep this monster alive; that to their distilleries and shops may be\ntraced all the poverty, and contention, and tears, and blood, which\ndrunkenness produces; that their occupation is to poison the young and\nthe old; and by dealing out gallons, and quarts, and pints, and gills,\nthey fill up, with drunkards, the highway to hell; that they do all this\nto get the money of the wretched victims; that the tears of\nbroken-hearted widows and orphan children are entering into the ears of\nthe Lord of Sabaoth, and that neither God nor their consciences will\nhold them guiltless in this thing, and sure I am that they will be\nfilled with horror at their own doings, and quit their business.\n\nIf there are some so hardened and dead to all the best interests of men\nas to persist, against the light of the age, in the business of making\ndrunkards, let public indignation burn against them till they can no\nlonger stand before its fires. Let a distillery be viewed as a man would\nview the inquisition, where the racks, the tortures, and the fires,\nconsume the innocent. Let the dram-shop be ranked, as Judge Dagget says\nit should be, with the haunts of counterfeiters, the depositories of\nstolen goods, and the retreats of thieves; and over its door let it be\nwritten, \"The way to hell, leading down to the chambers of death.\" The\ntime has been when a vender could deal out, day by day, the liquid\npoison to the tottering drunkard, attend his funeral, help lay him in\nthe grave; then go home, post up his books, turn the widow and her babes\ninto the streets to perish with hunger or be supported by charity, and\nyet sustain a good reputation. But in future, whenever the community\nshall stand around the grave of a drunkard, let the eyes of all be fixed\non the inhuman vender; let him be called to take one solemn look into\nthe grave of the slain and the pit of the damned; and if he will return\nto the ruin of his fellow-men, let the voice of his brother's blood cry\nto him from the ground, and his punishment be greater than he can bear.\n\nPerhaps some reputable vender is offended at the freedom of these\nremarks. I would ask him if he has never been offended at the smell of\nthat filthy drunkard who has hung around him? I would ask him if his\nconscience has never stung him as ragged children have come to him in\nbleak November to have him fill their father's bottle? I would ask him\nif his soul has never shook within him as he passed, in the darkness of\nnight, the graveyard where three, four, or five of his neighbors lie\nwithout even a tombstone, who found their death at his counter? His\ntraffic may be profitable, but let him beware lest while he feeds the\nmonster it turns and devours him and his offspring. At least, let him\nsolemnly inquire, before God, whether he can be a virtuous man and\nknowingly promote vice; or an honest man, and rob his neighbor by\nselling an article which promotes sorrow, disease, and death.\n\nI congratulate you, gentlemen, on the stand which you have taken against\nthe monster Intemperance, and on the success with which your efforts\nhave been crowned. You are doing a work for this country for which\nfuture generations will call you blessed. Let your watchword be onward,\nextermination, death; and victory will be yours. Our weapons are simple,\nbut mighty. O what a discovery is this principle of entire abstinence!\nLet the name of its author be embalmed with that of Luther, and Howard,\nand Raikes, and Wilberforce. What has it not already done for our\nsuffering country! What a change meets the eye as it wanders from\nGeorgia to Maine--from the Atlantic to our western borders. Here we see\nfarms tilled; there buildings raised; here churches built; there vessels\nreared, launched, and navigated too; manufactories conducted; fisheries\ncarried on; prisons governed; commercial business transacted; journeys\nperformed; physicians visiting their patients; legislators enacting\nlaws; lawyers pleading for justice; judges deciding the fate of men, and\nministers preaching the everlasting Gospel--without intoxicating liquor.\nHere we see importers unwilling to risk the importation of spirituous\nliquor into the land; there distillers abandoning their distilleries as\ncurses to themselves and the community; and merchants, not a few,\nexpelling the poison from their stores, and some pouring it upon the\nground, choosing that the earth should swallow it rather than man. And\nall this in the short space of three years. What has done it? Entire\nabstinence. What then will not be done, when, instead of 50,000 who now\navow it, 500,000 shall give their pledge that they will abandon a\nkingdom founded in blood. And can they not be found in this land of\nhumane men, and patriots, and Christians? Yes, they can. Onward then,\ngentlemen. Listen not to those who say you are carrying matters too far.\nSo said the wolf. She loved life, and she loved blood. But did she ever\nregard the cry of the sheep? The monster Intemperance has been glutted\nwith blood; and never spared, and had no pity. He still howls for blood;\nand many plead that he may have some. But depend upon it, their pleas\nare only those of debased appetite and avarice. Rally the community\nagainst them. Enlighten the public mind. Collect facts. Let your towns\nand villages be searched with candles. Go into the dens. Bring the\nmonster and his suffering victims to light, and the public indignation\nwill no longer slumber.\n\nOf one thing I will remind you. The demon will daunt the timid. It is\nnoisy and fiery. Attack it, and it will roll its eyes, and snap its\nteeth, and threaten vengeance. Attempt to starve it, and it will rave\nlike the famished tiger. Thousands have fed it against their\nconsciences, rather than meet its fury. But fear not. The use of ardent\nspirit meets no support in the Bible or the conscience, and the traffic\nmeets none. Be firm. Be decided. Be courageous. Connect your cause with\nheaven. It is the cause of God; the cause for which Immanuel died. O, as\nmen and patriots, banish intemperance, with all its sources, from your\ncountry and the land. As ministers and Christians, banish it for ever\nfrom the churches of the living God. Let the demon no longer hide in the\nsanctuary. Let ENTIRE ABSTINENCE be written in capitals over the door of\nevery church. Expel for ever the accursed enemy, that the Spirit of the\nLord may descend and bless us with life and peace.\n\nTo those not connected with the Temperance Association, I would say,\nLook at this enterprise. It injures no man, wrongs no man, defrauds no\nman, has no sectarian or political object in view; it would only\nrelieve our infant nation of a burden and a curse which is fast placing\nit side by side with buried Sodom. As wise men, judge ye of its\nimportance and merits. As men hastening to judgment, act in relation to\nit. A solemn responsibility rests upon you. Shall the land now be rid of\nintemperance? You reply, Yes--and talk of wholesome laws, and high\nlicenses, and prudent use. Three green withes on Samson! _Entire\nabstinence_ is the only weapon which will destroy the monster. \"But we\ncan practise that without giving our pledge.\" True. But until you give\nit, he will count you his friend and haunt your dwelling. In this cause\nthere is no neutrality. Have you supported this cruel kingdom of\ndarkness and death? Will you do it longer? Shall conscience be riven by\nthe act? Shall the land that bears you be cursed; the young around you\nbe sporting with hell; the awakened sinner be drowning conviction at his\nbottle; the once fair communicant be disgraced; the once happy\ncongregation be rent; its ministry be driven from the altar, and its\nsanctuary crumble to ruin? Shall our benevolent institutions fail, and\nour liberties be sacrificed? Shall God be grieved? Shall wailings from\nthe bottomless pit hereafter reproach and agonize you as the cause of\nthe ruin, perhaps of your children and children's children? Methinks one\ncommon pulsation beats in your hearts, and you answer, No--no. Methinks\nI see you rising in the majesty of freemen and Christians, in behalf of\nan injured country and church, and destroying at once the demon among\nyou.\n\n\n\n\nARGUMENT AGAINST THE MANUFACTURE OF\nARDENT SPIRITS:\n\nADDRESSED TO\nTHE DISTILLER AND THE FURNISHER OF THE MATERIALS.\n\nBY REV. EDWARD HITCHCOCK, D. D.\n\n\nA sense of duty impels me to address this portion of my fellow-citizens,\nin the hope that I may persuade them to abandon the employment by which\nthey furnish ardent spirits to the community. I am not about to charge\nthem as the intentional authors of all the evils our country suffers\nfrom intemperance, nor wholly to clear myself from the guilt; for some\nof these men are my neighbors and personal friends, and I know them to\nbe convinced that the excessive use of ardent spirits is a frightful\nevil among us, and that they would cheerfully join in some measures for\nits suppression, though not yet satisfied that those now in train are\njudicious or necessary. Not long ago, I was in essentially the same\nstate of mind, and encouraged these men in the manufacture of spirits,\nby the purchase and use of them. Now I would fain believe that the minds\nof all these individuals are open to conviction, and that the same\narguments which satisfied me that I was wrong, will satisfy them.\n\nIn the first place, therefore, I would reason with these men _as a\nchemical philosopher_. The distiller is a practical chemist; and\nalthough he may never have studied chemistry in the schools, he cannot\nbut have often thought of the theory of his operations. And the farmer\nwho receives at the distillery, in return for his rye, cider, or\nmolasses, a liquid powerful substance, obtained from them, will very\nnaturally inquire by what strange transformation these articles have\nbeen made to yield something apparently so very different from their\nnature. Probably, some of them may have concluded that the spirits exist\nnaturally in the grain, and apples, and sugar-cane, just as flour, and\ncider, and molasses do. And hence they have inferred, first, that God\nintended the spirits for the use of man, as much as the flour, the\napples, or the molasses; and that it is just as proper to separate the\nspirits by distillation, as it is to obtain the flour by grinding and\nbolting. Secondly, that there can be nothing injurious or poisonous in\nthe spirits, any more than in the apples, the grain, or the molasses;\nthe only injury, in either case, resulting from using too much. Thirdly,\nthat spirits must be nourishing to the body, constituting, as they seem\nto do, the very essence of the fruit, grain, and molasses, which are\nconfessedly nutritious.\n\nNow, these inferences are all rendered null and void by the fact that\nardent spirits, or alcohol, which is their essence, do not exist\nnaturally in apples, grain, or sugar-cane. No one ever perceived the\nodor or the taste of alcohol in apples, or the cider obtained from them,\nwhile it was new and sweet; but after it had fermented for a time, by a\ndue degree of warmth, the sweetness in a measure disappeared, and\nalcohol was found to be present. And just so in obtaining spirits from\nrye, or any other substance; a sweet liquor is at first obtained, which,\nby fermentation, is found to be partly converted into alcohol. This\nsweetness results from the sugar which the substances naturally contain,\nor which is formed by the process. This sugar is next destroyed, or\ndecomposed, by the fermentation, and its parts go to make up a new\nsubstance, then first brought into existence, called alcohol. If the\nfermentation be carried on still farther, another new substance is\nproduced, viz., vinegar. Carried still farther, putrid, unhealthy\nexhalations are the result, such as we find rising from swamps and other\nplaces where vegetable matter is decaying. If, then, we may conclude,\nbecause alcohol is obtained from grain and other nutritious substances,\nthat therefore God intended it for the use of man, the same reason will\nshow that he intended man should breathe these poisonous exhalations. If\nalcohol cannot be poisonous or injurious, because derived from harmless\nand salutary substances, neither can these exhalations be so; nor,\nindeed, those more putrid and deadly ones arising from the putrefaction\nof sweet animal food. And if alcohol must be nutritious, because apples,\ngrain, and molasses are so, it follows that these exhalations are\nnutritious.\n\nHaving thus explained the chemistry of this subject, I would, secondly,\naddress these men as a _physician_. I mean merely, that I wish to\npresent before them the views of the most distinguished and impartial\nphysicians concerning ardent spirits. It is important, then, to remark,\nthat physicians have decided that alcohol is a powerful _poison_. And\nhow do they prove this? Simply by comparing its effects with those of\nother poisons--particularly the poisons derived, as alcohol is, from\nvegetables--such as henbane, poison hemlock, prussic acid, thorn-apples,\ndeadly nightshade, foxglove, poison sumach, oil of tobacco, and the\nessence of opium. These poisons, taken in different quantities,\naccording to their strength, produce nausea, dizziness, exhilaration of\nspirits with subsequent debility, and even total insensibility; in other\ncases, delirium and death; and alcohol does the same. These poisons\nweaken the stomach, impair the memory and all the powers of the mind,\nand sometimes bring on palsy, apoplexy, and other violent disorders; and\nso does alcohol. Do you say that ardent spirits, as they are commonly\ndrank, do not produce these effects except in a very slight degree?\nNeither do these substances, when much weakened by mixture with other\nthings. Even rum and brandy, of the first proof, contain only about\nfifty parts of alcohol in the hundred; and even the _high wines_, as\nthey are called, are by no means pure alcohol; yet less than an ounce of\nproof spirits, given to a rabbit, killed it in less than an hour. Three\nquarters of an ounce of alcohol, introduced into the stomach of a large\nand robust dog, killed him in three and a half hours. In larger\nquantities, as almost every one knows, this same substance has proved\nimmediately fatal to men. Do you say that many drink spirits for years,\nand are not destroyed; and do you hence inquire how they can be\npoisonous? So I reply, not a few take small quantities of other poisons\nevery day for years, and continue alive. A horse, indeed, may take the\neighth part of an ounce of arsenic every day, and yet be thriving. But\nhow many are there, do you suppose, who habitually drink ardent spirits,\nand yet suffer no bad effects from it? Have they no stomach complaints,\nno nervous maladies, no headaches? Do they live to a great age? Not one\nout of a hundred of those who daily drink ardent spirits, escapes\nuninjured; though their sickness and premature decay, resulting from\nthis cause, are generally imputed to other causes; and as many as this\nwould escape if arsenic were used, in moderate quantities, instead of\nspirits.\n\nFarmers and distillers, whom I address, pause, I beseech you, and\nmeditate upon this fact. It is poison into which you convert your rye\nand apples; it is poison which, under the name of whiskey and\ncider-brandy, you put into your cellars; it is poison which you draw out\nfrom the brandy and whiskey casks for drink, and which you offer your\nchildren and friends for drink; it is poison which you sell to your\nneighbors; it is producing the same effects as other poisons upon you\nand upon them; that is, it is undermining your constitutions, and\nshortening your lives and happiness. You would not dare thus to\nmanufacture and distribute among the community calomel or arsenic, if\nthese were in use, leaving it to every man to determine how large doses\nhe should take. Yet it would not be half as dangerous for men of all\ndescriptions to deal out and administer these substances to themselves\nand others, for there would be none of that bewitching temptation to\nexcess, in the case of calomel and arsenic, which attends ardent\nspirits. But if by carelessly distributing calomel or arsenic in\nsociety, you had destroyed only one life, your conscience would be\nexceedingly burdened with the guilt. And who is to bear the guilt of\ndestroying the thirty or forty thousand who are cut off annually in this\ncountry by intemperance? Suppose the distilleries were all to stop, how\nmany would then die from hard drinking?\n\nBut if alcohol is poisonous in a degree, yet it is often necessary, you\nsay. Physicians say not, except in a very few cases as a medicine; and\neven in these cases it is doubtful whether they have not other remedies\nas good, or better. Spirits are necessary, you say, to enable a man to\nendure great extremes of heat, cold, fatigue, and in exposure to wet,\nand attendance upon the sick. If this be correct, farmers will sometimes\nneed them. But many of the most hard-working and thorough farmers in the\nland have, within a few years past, tried the experiment of laboring\nwithout spirits; and their unanimous testimony is, that they are\nstronger, healthier, and better able to bear all extremes and severe\nfatigue without them. Have you ever tried the same experiment? Be\npersuaded to make the trial, at least for one year, before you reject so\nmuch substantial testimony.\n\nIf spirits are necessary for any class, we should suppose it would be\nthe West Indian slave. But \"on three contiguous estates,\" says Dr.\nAbbot, \"of more than four hundred slaves, has been made, with fine\nsuccess, the experiment of a strict exclusion of ardent spirits at all\nseasons of the year. The success has very far exceeded the proprietor's\nmost sanguine hopes. Peace, and quietness, and contentment, reign among\nthe negroes; creoles are reared in much greater numbers than formerly;\nthe estates are in the neatest and highest state of cultivation; and\norder and discipline are maintained with very little correction, and the\nmildest means.\"\n\nSailors are another class who must sometimes need spirits, if they are\nneeded in case of great exposure to cold and wet. But several crews have\nattempted to winter in high northern latitudes, and those furnished with\nspirits have nearly all perished, while those not furnished with them\nhave nearly all survived. When exposed to cold and wet, and partially\nimmersed in the sea for hours, those who have not used spirits have\ncommonly outlived those who drank them.\n\nSoldiers are exposed to even more and severer extremes and vicissitudes\nthan sailors. But Dr. Jackson, a most distinguished physician in the\nBritish army, asserts that spirits are decidedly injurious to soldiers\non duty, rendering them less able to endure labor and hardship. And a\ngeneral officer in the same army thus testifies: \"But, above all, let\nevery one who values his health, avoid drinking spirits when heated;\nthat is adding fuel to the fire, and is apt to produce the most\ndangerous inflammatory complaints.\" \"Not a more dangerous error exists,\nthan the notion that the habitual use of spirituous liquors prevents the\neffects of cold. On the contrary, the truth is, that those who drink\nmost frequently of them are soonest affected by severe weather. The\ndaily use of these liquors tends greatly to emaciate and waste the\nstrength of the body,\" etc.\n\nThe Roman soldiers marched with a weight of armor upon them which a\nmodern soldier can hardly stand under; and they conquered the world. Yet\nthey drank nothing stronger than vinegar and water.\n\n\"I have worn out two armies in two wars,\" says the Dr. Jackson mentioned\nabove, \"by the aids of temperance and hard work, and probably could\nwear out another before my period of old age arrives. I eat no animal\nfood, drink no wine or malt liquor, or spirits of any kind; I wear no\nflannel, and neither regard wind nor rain, heat nor cold, when business\nis in the way.\"\n\nThose men in Europe who are trained for boxing-matches would require\nspirits if they were necessary for giving bodily strength and health,\nsince the object of this training is to produce the most perfect health,\nand the greatest possible strength. But ardent spirits are not used by\nthem at all; and even wine is scarcely allowed.\n\nIn protracted watching by the bed of sickness, food and intervals of\nrest are the only real securities against disease and weakness. Spirits\npeculiarly expose a man to receive the disease, if it be contagious, and\nif not, they wear out the strength sooner than it would otherwise fail.\n\nThe most exposed and trying situations in life, then, need not the aid\nof ardent spirits; nay, they are in such cases decidedly injurious. They\nare not, therefore, necessary, but injurious for men in all other\nsituations. The distiller must, therefore, give up the necessity of\nusing them in the community as a reason for continuing their\nmanufacture.\n\nBut spirits, it may be said, do certainly inspire a man with much\nadditional strength. Yes; and physicians tell us how. It is by exciting\nthe nervous system, and thus calling into more vigorous action the\nstrength that God has given the constitution to enable it to resist\nheat, cold, and disease. If this strength do not previously exist in the\nsystem, spirits can never bestow it; for they do not afford the least\nnourishment, as food does. They merely call into action the stock of\nstrength which food has already implanted is the body. Hence the\ndebility and weakness which always succeed their use when the excitement\nhas passed by. Hence, too, it follows, that spirits can never give any\nadditional permanent strength to the body.\n\nBut this is not all; for physicians infer from this statement, that the\nuse of spirits, even in moderate quantities, tends prematurely to\nexhaust and wear out the system. It urges on the powers of life faster\nthan health requires, and thus wears them out sooner, by a useless waste\nof strength and spirits. True, a moderate drinker may not notice any\nstriking bad effects upon his health, from this cause, for many years;\nnay, the excitement it produces may remove, for the time being, many\nuncomfortable feelings which he experiences, and which are the early\nwarnings that nature gives him that she is oppressed, for the secret\npoison is at work within; and if such a man is attacked by a fever, or\nother acute disease, physicians know that he is by no means as likely to\nrecover as the water-drinker, because the spirits have partially\nexhausted the secret strength of his constitution, all of which is now\nwanted to resist the disease. Let every man who indulges in the use of\nspirits ponder well the declaration of a committee of one of the most\n_enlightened medical societies_ in our land: \"Beyond comparison greater\nis the risk of life, undergone in nearly all diseases, of whatever\ndescription, when they occur in those unfortunate men who have been\npreviously disordered by these poisons.\" Such men, too, it may be added,\nare much more liable to the attacks of disease than those who totally\nabstain from alcohol. In both these ways, therefore, the use of spirits,\neven in the greatest moderation, tends to shorten life.\n\nDistillers of ardent spirits, I entreat you, think seriously of these\nthings, as you tend the fires under your boilers. Farmers, as you drive\nyour load of cider or rye to the distillery, meditate upon them, I\nbeseech you. You have here the opinions and advice of the most able and\nimpartial physicians in this country and in Europe. True, you may find\nhere and there one, of little or no reputation and learning, who, either\nbecause he thinks it for his interest, or is attached to ardent spirits\nhimself, will oppose such views of the subject. But no physician of\ndistinction and good moral character would dare, at this day, to come\nout publicly in opposition to the principles above advanced, sanctioned\nas they are by the united testimony of science and experience. O, shut\nnot your ears against this powerful voice.\n\nIn the third place, I would expostulate with these men _as a friend to\nmy country_. Can it be that they are acquainted with the extent of the\nmischiefs which our country already suffers from intemperance? Do they\nknow that fifty-six millions of gallons of ardent spirits are annually\nconsumed in the United States, or more than four and an half gallons to\neach inhabitant; and that about forty-four millions of this quantity are\nprepared in the distilleries of our own country; that ten millions of\ngallons are distilled from molasses, and more than nine million bushels\nof rye are used for this purpose? Do they know that these forty-four\nmillions of gallons, as retailed, must cost the community not less than\n$22,000,000; that they render from two hundred to three hundred thousand\nof our citizens intemperate; that in consequence of this intemperance\nthe country sustains an annual loss, in the productive labor of these\ndrunkards, of not far from $30,000,000; and a loss of more than\ntwenty-five thousand lives, from her middle-aged citizens, who are thus\ncut off prematurely? That two-thirds of the pauperism in the country,\ncosting from $6,000,000 to $8,000,000, and two-thirds of the crime among\nus, perpetrated by an army of eighty or ninety thousand wretches, result\nfrom the same cause; and that from forty to fifty thousand of the cases\nof imprisonment for debt, annually, are imputed to the same cause? That\nthe pecuniary losses proceeding from the carelessness and rashness of\nintemperate sailors, servants, and agents, are immense; and that the\ndegradation of mind, the bodily and mental sufferings of drunkards and\ntheir families, and the corruption of morals and manners, are\naltogether beyond the reach of calculation to estimate, and of words to\nexpress?[E]\n\n    [Footnote E: In order to obtain the result in this paragraph,\n    the well-established estimates that have often been made,\n    concerning the cost and evils of ardent spirits in our\n    country, have been reduced about one fourth or fifth part, to\n    make allowance for the amount imported from abroad.]\n\nCan it be that these men have ever soberly looked forward to see what\nmust be the ultimate effects, upon our free and beloved country, of this\nhydra-headed evil, unless it be arrested? Can they be aware that,\njudging by the past proportion of deaths from intemperance in the most\nregular and moral parts of the land, one third of the six million adults\nnow living will die from the same cause? Do they know how the\nintemperate entail hereditary diseases and a thirst for ardent spirits\nupon their descendants, and how rapidly, therefore, the bodily vigor of\nour citizens is giving way before their deadly influence? And can they\ndoubt that vigor of mind will decay in the same proportion? Corruption\nof manners and morals too, how rapidly it will spread under the\noperation of this poison! Nor can religious principle stand long before\nthe overwhelming inundation; and just in the degree in which alcoholic\nliquors are used, will the Sabbath, and the institutions of religion,\nand the Bible be neglected and trodden under foot. And when the\nmorality, and religion, and the conscience of the majority of our nation\nare gone, what but a miracle can save our liberties from ruin? Corrupt\nthe majority, and what security is there in popular elections? Corrupt\nthe majority, and you have collected together the explosive materials\nthat need only the touch of some demagogue's torch to scatter the fair\ntemple of our independence upon the winds of heaven.\n\nBut admitting that this picture is not overdrawn, yet the distiller and\nthe furnisher of materials may perhaps say, that all this does not\nparticularly concern them. They are not intemperate, they force no man\nto drink, or even to buy their spirits: nay, they generally refuse to\nsell to the intemperate. The intemperate are the persons to whom these\nexpostulations should be addressed. As for the distiller and the farmer,\nwho manufacture the poison, they are following a lawful calling, and\nhave a right to the honest proceeds of their business.\n\nThe principle, then, which I understand you to advocate, is this: that\nprovided your employment be not contrary to the laws of the state, you\nare under no obligation to inquire particularly as to its influence upon\nthe public happiness after the products of your labor get out of your\nown hands. If this be a correct principle for your guidance, it is\ncertainly a correct one for others. Let us apply it to the intemperate\nman.\n\nI expostulate with him on the destructive influence of his habits upon\nhis country. \"But have I not a right,\" says he, \"to use my own property\nin such a way as I choose, provided I do not violate the laws of the\nland? If I may not employ a portion of my money in purchasing spirits,\nneither have you a right to lay out yours for a carriage, or for\npainting your house, or for any thing else which some of your neighbors\nmay regard as unnecessary. I buy no more spirits than my health and\ncomfort require; and I have as good a right to judge of the quantity, as\nyou have in respect to the needless articles of dress and furniture\nwhich you procure.\"\n\nI urge the man who keeps a licensed gambling-house to abandon a pursuit\nthat is ruining his country. \"But I am not violating the laws,\" he\nreplies, \"nor compelling any man to gamble and drink to excess in my\nhouse. The whole responsibility, therefore, rests upon those who do it.\nExpostulate with them. I have a right to my earnings.\"\n\nYou see where this principle leads. Is it one that a true patriot ought\nto adopt? No: he alone is a true patriot who is ready to abandon every\npursuit that is injuring his country, however profitable it may be to\nhimself, and however tolerated by the civil law. Nor I would not attempt\nto extenuate the guilt of the intemperate man, nor of the merchant who\nsells him spirits; but I do say, that if those who distil, and those who\nfurnish the materials, were to abandon the business altogether, it would\nalmost put an end to intemperance in the land. For only a small\nproportion of the spirits used is imported; and its price must always\ncontinue so high that but few could afford to be drunkards were the\ndomestic manufacture to cease. You have it in your power, then, to put a\nstop to this most dreadful national evil, and thus to save our liberties\nand all that is dear to us from ruin. Your fathers poured out their\nblood like water to purchase our independence, and to build up a bulwark\naround our rights. But the ten thousand distilleries which you ply are\nso many fiery batteries, pouring forth their forty-four million\ndischarges every year, to level that bulwark in the dust. All Europe\ncombined against us in war could not do us half as much injury as your\ndistilleries are doing every year. Oh, abandon them--tear them\ndown--melt your boilers in the furnace--give your grain and molasses to\nthe poor, or to the fowls of heaven--make fuel of your fruit-trees,\nrather than destroy your country.\n\nSome may say, that if they cease to manufacture spirits, others will\ntake up the business and carry it on as extensively as they do. And\nsince, therefore, the country will gain nothing by their discontinuance\nof distillation, they may as well have the profit of it as others. But\nwhat course of wickedness will not such reasoning justify? A highwayman\nrobs you, or an assassin invades your dwelling at midnight and\nslaughters your wife and children. Now, would you think them justified,\nshould they plead that they knew of others about to commit the same\noutrages, and therefore they thought their commission of these deeds was\nnot wrong, since they needed the avails of the robbery and murder as\nmuch as any body? A man could pursue the slave-trade year after year on\nthis principle, with no upbraidings of conscience, if he only suspected\nthat the business would be carried on were he to stop. And a traitor\nmight sell his country for gold, could he only ascertain that some one\nelse was about to do it, and yet be exonerated from blame, if this\nprinciple be proper to act upon. Oh, how can any decent man plead a\nmoment for a principle that leads to such monstrous results!\n\nSome will say, however, that they sell the spirits which they\nmanufacture only to those whom they know to be temperate, and therefore\nthey are not accessory to the intemperance in the land; for they are not\naccountable for the sins of those who sell spirits to improper persons.\n\nYou supply them only to the temperate! The greater the blame and the\nguilt; for you are thus training up a new set of drunkards to take the\nplace of those whom death will soon remove out of the way. Were you to\nsell only to the intemperate, you would do comparatively little injury\nto the community. For you would only hasten those out of the way who are\na nuisance, and prevent the education of others to fill their places.\nBut let not any man think that no blame attaches to himself because the\npoison goes into other hands before it is administered. _A man is to\nblame for any evil to his fellow-men which he could prevent._ Now, by\nstopping all the distilleries in the land, you could prevent men from\nbecoming drunkards. The very head and front of the offending, therefore,\nlies with you. It is as idle for you to attempt to cast all the guilt\nupon others, in this way, as it was for Pilate, when he endeavored to\nfix the blood of Christ upon the people by washing his hands before them\nand declaring himself innocent, and then going back to his judgment-seat\nand passing sentence of death upon him. Good man! He did not touch a\nhair of the Saviour's head. It was the cruel soldiers who executed his\norders, that, according to this plea, were alone guilty!\n\nSome distillers will probably say that they cannot support themselves\nand families if they abandon this business; and some farmers will say,\nif we cannot sell our cider and rye to the distillers, the products of\nour orchards must all be lost, and rye is the only article which we can\nraise upon our farms with any profit. And if I were not to purchase\nthese articles, says the distiller, their price must be so low that no\nfarmer could afford to raise them. Thus to reduce a large class of the\nyeomanry of our country--its very sinews--to poverty, would be a greater\nevil than even the intemperance that is so common.\n\nIs it indeed true, that in this free and happy country an industrious,\ntemperate, and economical man, cannot find any employment by which he\ncan support himself and family in a comfortable manner without\nmanufacturing poison and selling it to his countrymen? In other words,\ncannot he live without destroying them? Is land so scarce, or so eaten\nup with tithes and taxes, that he cannot thence derive subsistence\nunless he converts its products into money at the expense of others'\ncomfort, reputation, and life? Is every honest calling so crowded, or so\nunproductive, that every avenue is closed? Have the men who make this\nplea tried, even for a single year, to live without the manufacture of\nspirits? It may be, indeed, that for a time they will find other\npursuits less productive than this. And is not this, after all, the true\nreason why they shrink from the sacrifice? But if superior profits be a\nsufficient reason for continuing distillation, it is a reason that will\njustify the robber, the thief, and every other depredator upon the\nrights of others.\n\nBut how does it appear that the stoppage of all the distilleries in the\nland will reduce the price of cider and rye? Their operation has\nproduced a great demand for these articles, and that demand has thrown\ninto the market an immense supply: the consequence is, that the prices\nare reduced as low as the articles can be afforded, at a very moderate\nprofit, and the great complaint now among farmers is, that they are so\nlow. Let the distilleries cease to exist, and the special demand for\nthese articles will cease; and consequently the market will not be\nglutted with them, because no extra efforts will be made to raise them:\nthe result will probably be, that in a very short time their price will\nbe very nearly or quite as high as it now is.\n\nBut even if we suppose the worst, that the distiller and some farmers\nshould be reduced to absolute beggary by the cessation of this\nmanufacture; no reasonable, or patriotic, or Christian man can for a\nmoment regard this as a reason why he should continue in any business\nthat is productive of immense mischief to his country. Is it not better\nthat he and his family should come to want, than that hundreds of\nthousands should be ruined, soul and body, for time and eternity? If he\nhas a right to derive his subsistence from the ruin of others, then\nothers, as the thief, the swindler, and the robber, have a right to\nobtain their subsistence from his ruin.\n\nIn the fourth place, I appeal to these men _as a neighbor and a parent,\nand in behalf of the drunkard's wife and children_. When Providence cast\nour lot in the same neighborhood, I considered, and doubtless you\nthought the same, that a regard to our mutual welfare bound us to do\nevery thing in our power to make the community in which we lived\nintelligent, virtuous, and happy; and to avoid every thing that would\nmar its peace, degrade its character, or stain its purity. My complaint\nis, that by the manufacture of ardent spirits you have violated these\nobligations. The facilities for obtaining spirits, and the temptations\nto their use and abuse, have been thus so multiplied, and brought so\nnear, that very many who were once kind neighbors and valuable members\nof society are ruined, or in different stages of the path to ruin. One\nhas got as far as an occasional visit to the grog-shop and the bar-room:\nanother is rarely seen there; but the wretched condition of his house,\nbarn, and farm, his impatience of confinement at home, and his many\nfoolish bargains, tell me, in language not to be mistaken, that the worm\nwhich is preying upon the root of his prosperity is the worm of the\nstill. The frequent visits of the sheriff to the house of another\nneighbor, whose family is healthy and industrious; his bitter complaints\nof the hardness of the times; his constant efforts to borrow money to\nprevent executions from being levied; the mortgaging of his farm to the\nbank; his pimpled face, and bloated body, and dry hacking cough, are\npainful testimonies of his familiarity with the products of the\ndistillery. It is distressing to look around upon our once happy\nneighborhood--did you ever do it?--and to see what havoc your\nmanufactory of spirits has made upon the peace, property, reputation,\nintelligence, morality, and good order of the community. No wasting\nsickness, no foreign or domestic war, no premature frost; no drought,\nblasting, or mildew; nor any other visitation of God; no, not all of\nthem combined have been the tenth part as fatal to our prosperity and\nhappiness, as this one self-inflicted curse. And this curse we should\nnever have felt, had not some of you put into operation your\ndistilleries, and others fed them with the products of your farms: I\nmean, such would have been the happy effect, had the manufacture of\nspirits ceased in our land before these evils had followed: and I am now\nsupposing that some one in every town and neighborhood throughout the\nland, where there is a distillery, is addressing the same language to\nthose who conduct it as I am addressing to you. We make a united and\nearnest appeal to you, in view of the ruin that rises around us, that\nyou would stop the work of destruction and strengthen the things that\nremain, which are ready to die. You stand at the fountain-head of that\nfiery stream which is spreading volcanic desolation over the land. Oh,\nshut up the sluices before every verdant spot is buried beneath the\ninundation.\n\nBut to come again into our own neighborhood: I have a family of beloved\nchildren growing up in the vicinity of your distillery; and when I\nrecollect that every fortieth individual among us is a drunkard, and\nthat about every third person above the age of twenty dies prematurely\nthrough intemperance, I cannot but feel a deep anxiety lest my boys\nshould be found at length among the number. True, one of the earliest\nlessons I teach them is total abstinence, and I try to excite in their\nminds a disgust towards every species of alcoholic mixture. But they go\nto one of my neighbors and hear him telling of the whiskey and\ncider-brandy that have been produced upon his farm, and they see him\nmixing and circulating the bowl among his laborers, his visitors, and\neven his own children; and it is offered also to mine, accompanied with\nsome jeer against cold water societies. They see the huge accumulations\nof cider and rye at the distillery, and mark the glee of the men who\nconduct its operations, and of those who come to fill their barrel or\nkeg with spirits. They go also to the store in the vicinity, and see one\nafter another filling their jugs with the same article. Now, these\nneighbors who thus distil, and vend, and drink whiskey and brandy, my\nchildren are taught to respect; and how is it possible that they should\nnot feel that their father is too rigid in his requirements, and hence\nbe tempted to taste; and tasting, to love; and loving, to be destroyed\nby the poison? Oh, is there no guilt in thus spreading a snare for my\nchildren? Should they fall, will none of their blood be upon your heads?\nShall not the entreaties of a parent be felt by those who are themselves\nparents, and whose days may yet be rendered intolerable by the cruelty\nof drunken children?\n\nI would invite the manufacturer of spirits, and the farmer who supplies\nthe materials, to go around with me among the people in the vicinity of\nthe distillery, that they may have some nearer views of the miseries\nproduced by their employment. Let us stop for a moment at this tavern.\n\nMYSELF. You seem, landlord, to be quite full of business to-day. What is\nthe occasion?\n\nLANDLORD. Neighbors X and Y have their case tried here, to-day, before\nEsquire Z, and you know that these matters cannot go on well with dry\nthroats.\n\nMYSELF. What is the point in dispute between your neighbors?\n\nLANDLORD. Something about swapping a horse, I believe; but it is my\nopinion that both of them hardly knew what they were about, when they\nmade the exchange. It was last town-meeting day, and I recollect that\nboth of them called quite frequently at my bar that day. They are none\nof your cold water folks, I assure you.\n\nMYSELF. Are these court days generally profitable to you, landlord?\n\nLANDLORD. Better, even, than a town meeting; for those who come on such\noccasions have no qualms of conscience about drinking, if they have\noccasion, I assure you. But on town-meeting days, some of the pale-faced\ntemperance men are always about, to frighten away honest people.\n\nMYSELF. Do not these court occasions often lay the foundation for other\ncourts?\n\nLANDLORD. Oh, very frequently: but so much the better, you know, for my\nbusiness; and so I must not complain.\n\nLet us next call at Mr. A's, who has so fine a farm and orchard, and\nevery means, one would think, of independence and happiness. But hark;\nthere is a family dialogue going on between farmer A, his wife, and son.\n\nSON. What; boozy so early, mother? and father too, and quarrelling, as\nusual, I perceive. O, I wish our orchard were all burnt down, and the\ndistillery too, rather than live in such a bedlam.\n\nMOTHER. But do you not like a little yourself, son, when eleven o'clock\ncomes?\n\nFATHER. Aye, and at four, and some bitters in the morning. We are old,\nyou must remember, son, and require more to warm us and support nature\nthan you do.\n\nSON. If you would drink only moderately, as I do, I would not complain.\nFor I am not one of your cold water scarecrows, I assure you. But to\nhave you drink half the time, is what vexes me.\n\nWhat a fine picture is here, my neighbors, for the men to look at who\nexpect to reform the world by _moderate drinking_, without adopting the\nprinciple of _total abstinence_.\n\nBut look at the sheriff yonder, pointing about neighbor B's house, from\nwhich he seems to be excluded.\n\nSHERIFF. You are too late, gentlemen; all the property is attached for\ntwice its value. Rum, bad bargains, and negligence, have done the\nbusiness with poor B. But I pity his wife and children most, for they\nhave struggled hard to prevent it.\n\nDISTILLER. Is every thing gone? The fellow owed me two hundred dollars.\n\nMYSELF. For whiskey, I suppose.\n\nDISTILLER. He was formerly a partner in my still, you recollect.\n\nYonder comes from the store the mechanic, neighbor D. Well, neighbor D,\nhow do the times go with you now?\n\nD. Was there ever such a scarcity of money? When the rich are failing\nall around, how can a poor mechanic stand it?\n\nMYSELF. What have you, friend D, bound up so carefully in your\nhandkerchief?\n\nD. Aye, you belong to the cold water society, I believe. But I do know\nthat a _little_ now and then does me good.\n\nMYSELF. I should suppose that, shut up as you are in your shop most of\nthe time, you could not be much exposed to heat or cold, or great\nfatigue, and therefore would hardly need spirits.\n\nD. Well, but I have a weak and cold stomach, and often feel so faint and\nsick that I must either take an emetic or a glass of spirits. But the\nlatter cures all my bad feelings.\n\nMYSELF. Ah, friend D, I fear the times will prove too hard for you. But\nwhy do you try to conceal your jug when you go to the store for whiskey?\n\nD. Why--why--it is more convenient to carry it tied up in this way.\n\nLet us stop next at this skeleton of a house, which you know used to\nlook so tidy before its owner became intemperate. Oh, was misery ever\nmore perfectly personified than in his wife and children, whom you see\nthrough the doors and window-frames! And there lies the wretch himself,\ndead-drunk.\n\nMYSELF. Pray, madam, do these children attend school?\n\nWIFE. Ah, sir, I am ashamed to say it, they have not decent clothes. But\nit was not always as you see it to-day. When we were first married our\nprospects were good; and by industry and economy our little farm\nsupported us, and we made some headway. But (turning towards the farmer)\nyet I would not hurt any one's feelings.\n\nFARMER. Tell your story, madam.\n\nWIFE. Well, sir, you recollect that five years ago your orchard produced\nabundantly, and you proposed to my husband to assist you in making the\ncider, and getting it to the distillery, and to take his pay in brandy.\nHe did so, and soon a barrel of the poison, which he could not sell, was\ndeposited in our cellar. Oh, what a winter followed! I have known no\npeace or comfort since, nor shall I, till I find them in the grave. Were\nit not for these poor naked children, I could wish to rest there soon.\nBut O, what will become of them? Oh, sir, can you think it strange if\nall these things should come into my mind every time you and I sit down\ntogether at the same communion-table?\n\nWe must not return home without calling at the next miserable hovel,\nwhere the widow of a drunkard, with half a dozen ragged, squalid\nchildren, is dragging out a miserable existence. Hark, she is reading\nthe Bible. Did you hear that stifled groan, as she read in that holy\nbook, _Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor\ndrunkards, shall inherit the kingdom of God_.\n\nMYSELF. I believe I have not seen you, madam, since the death of your\nhusband. I hope you find support.\n\nWIDOW. Oh, sir, resignation is easy if we feel a confidence, or even a\nfeeble hope, that our friends who are taken away will escape the agonies\nof a second death. But how can we hope against the express declarations\nof the word of God?\n\nDISTILLER. And yet, madam, your husband had many excellent qualities.\n\nWIDOW. And he would still have lived to bless me and the world by their\nexhibition, had it not been for your distillery.\n\nDISTILLER. I have no idea of sitting in judgment upon our departed\nfriends, and sending them to hell because they had a few failings.\n\nWIDOW. Ah, sir, if my husband has gone there, it was your distillery\nthat sent him. Before that was built no man was more kind, temperate,\nand happy. But you persuaded him to labor there, and paid him in\nwhiskey, and it ruined him, and ruined us all. Look at me--look at these\nchildren, without food, without raiment, without fire, without friends,\nexcept their Friend in heaven. I do not ask you to bestow upon us any\narticles for the supply of our temporal necessities; but look at us, and\nbe entreated to tear down your distillery, so that you may not multiply\nupon you the execrations of the widow and the orphan, wrung from them by\nthe extremity of their sufferings.\n\nGentlemen, let me exhort you to take such a tour of observation as this\nonce a month. Oh, I entreat every one in the land, who has any concern\nin the manufacture of ardent spirits, to do the same; and ere long, I am\npersuaded, you would either abandon every claim to humanity, or abandon\nfor ever your pernicious employment.\n\nIn the fifth place, I advise and forewarn these men _as their personal\nfriend_. If you distil ardent spirits, or furnish the materials, you\nmust use them yourselves and allow of their use in your families;\notherwise your inconsistency, not to say dishonesty, would subject you\nto universal contempt. Now, to have your children familiar with the\nsling, the toddy, and the flip, as they grow up! Is here no danger that\nthe temptation will prove too strong for them? _Can a man take fire in\nhis bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Can one go upon hot coals, and\nhis feet not be burned?_ And what compensation for the intemperance of a\nwife, or a child, would be the highest profits of an orchard, a field of\nrye, or a distillery? Oh, to be a drunkard is to destroy the soul as\nwell as the body: and _what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?_\nAnd are you yourselves in no danger of intemperance, plied as you are by\nso many allurements? Look around you and see how many strong men, how\nmany of the wise, the moral, the amiable, and the apparently pious, have\nfallen before the fascinations of this prince of serpents. And are you\nsafe who stand even within the reach of his forky tongue, and lay the\nbait for his victims, and lure them into his jaws by tasting of it\nyourselves? Oh, the history of distillers and temperate drinkers, in\ntheir last days, furnishes an awful warning for you.\n\nBut there is another danger before you, of which, as a faithful friend,\nI wish to forewarn you. I see a dark storm gathering over your heads.\nYou cannot be ignorant of the mighty movement that is making in our land\non the subject of temperance. You must have felt the heavy concussion,\nand heard the rolling thunder. The religious, the moral, the patriotic,\nthe learned, and the wise, as intemperance has been developing its huge\nand hateful features more and more, have been aroused to effort; they\nhave closed together in a firm phalanx; and as they move on with the\nstandard of _total abstinence_ waving before them, the great, and the\ngood, and the valiant of every name, are swelling their ranks. The cry\nis waxing louder and louder, \"Where are the strong holds of the monster;\npoint out to us the fountains that supply his insatiable thirst, and who\nit is that feeds them; and who it is that opens the enormous floodgates?\nand thither we will march, and against such men will we point our\nheaviest artillery.\" And to this cry there is an answer more and more\ndistinctly breaking out: \"To the distilleries--to the distilleries.\" My\nfriends, wait not till this storm of public indignation bursts upon you,\nnor fancy that you can face it. Oh, no; it will be a steady, fiery\nblast, that will bear you down; and you will find that none but the\ndregs of the community will be left with you to sustain you. You will be\nleft with the drunkards, to be distinguished from them only as their\nabettors and supporters; and from you will every virtuous and patriotic\nman turn away in disgust, as enemies to himself, his children, and his\ncountry. Think not that all this is imagination: look up, and you will\nsee the cloud blackening, and the lightning beginning to play, and hear\nthe thunder roaring. But it is not yet too late to escape from the fury\nof the storm.\n\nFinally, I would entreat these men _as a Christian_. Some of them\nprofess a personal and experimental knowledge of vital Christianity, and\nare members of the visible church. What, can it be that a real Christian\nshould, at this day, be concerned in the manufacture of ardent spirits\nfor general use? When I think of the light that now illuminates every\nman's path on this subject so clearly, and think how the horrors of\nintemperance must flash in his face at every step, I confess I feel\ndisposed indignantly to reply, No; this man cannot be a Christian. But\nthen I recollect David, the adulterer; Peter, the denier of his master,\nprofanely cursing and swearing; and John Newton, a genuine convert to\nChristianity, yet for a long time violating every dictate of conscience\nand of right; and I check my hasty judgment, and leave the secret\ncharacter of the manufacturer of ardent spirits to a higher and more\nimpartial tribunal. But if such a man be really a Christian, that is, if\nhe do really love God supremely and his neighbor as himself, in what a\nstate of awful alienation and stupidity must he be living! Remaining in\nsuch a state, that is, while persevering in so unchristian an\nemployment, can he have any evidence himself, or afford any evidence to\nothers, of possessing a Christian character?\n\nI would not apply these remarks in their unqualified severity to every\nprofessor of religion who supplies the distillery with materials, or who\nvends or uses wine or ardent spirits; for we shall find some of this\ndescription who really suppose that, instead of being condemned for such\nconduct in the Bible, they are rather supported by some parts of it:\nthey not only find Christ converting water into wine at a marriage, and\nPaul directing Timothy to use a little wine for his health, but that, in\none case, the Jews had liberty to convert a certain tithe into money,\nand bring it to Jerusalem and bestow it for what their _soul lusted\nafter, for oxen, or for sheep, or for wine, or strong drink_, and _they\nwere to eat there before the Lord their God, and rejoice, they and their\nhousehold_. Deut. 14:26. But before any one settles down into a\nconclusion that this passage warrants the use of wine and ardent\nspirits, in our age and country, let him consider that there may have\nbeen, as there doubtless were, peculiar reasons, under the Levitical\ndispensation, for permitting the Jews to partake of what their soul\ndesired _before the Lord_, which would not apply to mankind generally;\nas was the case in respect to several other things. But not to urge this\npoint, I would say, further, that the fact that _Judea was a wine\ncountry_, that is, a country where the grape for the manufacture of wine\nwas easily and abundantly raised, puts a different aspect upon this\npermission. In our country, the apple takes the place of the grape, and\nour cider is nearer equivalent to the wine of Judea; because there the\napple does not flourish, and here, the grape cannot be extensively\ncultivated. _To use wine in wine countries, therefore, is essentially\nthe same thing as to use cider in cider countries_; and it does not\nappear that the one, in such cases, is much more productive of\nintemperance than the other. The fact is, the wines used in countries\nwhere they are manufactured, contain but little more then half as much\nalcohol as most of the wine sold in this country, where, as a very\nrespectable authority states, \"for every gallon of pure wine which is\nsold, there is perhaps a pipe, or fifty times the quantity of that,\nwhich is adulterated, and in various manners sophisticated--the whole,\nwithout exception, the source of a thousand disorders, and in many\ninstances an active poison, imperfectly disguised.\"\n\nBut after all, I am not obliged, in this place, to prove that God has\nforbidden the use of wine, though led into this digression from the\ndesire to correct a general misapprehension of the Scriptures on this\nsubject; for the inquiry now relates to ardent spirits. And what shall\nwe say concerning the permission, above pointed out, for the Jews to use\n_strong drink_? I say, it was merely a permission to use wine; for the\nstrong drink several times mentioned in the Bible was, in fact, _nothing\nmore than a particular kind of wine_, made of dates and various sorts of\nseeds and roots, and called strong drink, merely to distinguish it from\nthe wine made from grapes. Nor is there any evidence that it was in fact\nany stronger, in its intoxicating qualities, than common wine. The truth\nis, _ardent spirits were not known until many centuries after Christ_:\nnot until the art of distillation was discovered, which was not\ncertainly earlier than the dark ages. _Not a word, therefore, is said in\nthe Bible concerning distilled spirits._ All its powerful descriptions\nof drunkenness, and awful denunciations against it, were founded upon\nthe abuse men made of wine. How much louder its notes of remonstrance\nand terror would have risen, had distillation thus early taught men how\nto concentrate the poison, may be imagined by the reader.\n\nAfter these statements, I trust none of those whom I address will any\nlonger resort to the Bible for proofs of a divine permission to\nmanufacture or use ardent spirits. But do the principles of the Bible\n_condemn_ such use and manufacture?\n\nWhat do you think of the golden rule of _doing unto others as we would\nthey should do unto us_? Should you suppose your neighbors were\nconducting towards you according to this rule, were they unnecessarily\nto pursue such a business, or to set such an example as would inevitably\nlead any of your children or friends into confirmed drunkenness? If not,\nthen how can you, consistently with this rule, distil, use, or furnish\nmaterials for the manufacture of ardent spirits, when you thereby,\ndirectly or indirectly, render intemperate from two hundred thousand to\nthree hundred thousand of your fellow-citizens, and every year also\nraise up new recruits enough to supply the dreadful ravages which death\nmakes in this army? This you are certainly doing; for were your\ndistilleries to stop, and you to stop drinking, few would become\ndrunkards, from want of the means.\n\nHow would you like to have your neighbors one after another break down\nyour fences, and turn their cattle into your corn-fields, cut down your\nfruit and ornamental trees, set your house or barn on fire, and threaten\nyou with poverty and slavery? If you would not have your neighbor do\nthus to you, provided he had the power, then how can you, by preparing\nthe food for intemperance, subject the property, the peace, the\nmorality, the religion, and the liberties of your country to those\ndangers and fearful depredations which you are now inflicting upon her?\n\nHow would you like to have your neighbors, directly or indirectly, but\nunnecessarily, cause the premature death of every fortieth of your\nchildren and friends, and of one in three of those above the age of\ntwenty? I know you would not that they should do thus to you, and yet\nyour manufacture of spirits causes the premature death of five hundred\nof your fellow-citizens every week; in other words, about that number\ndie every week through the intemperance produced by your distilleries.\n\nAgain, I ask the men whom I am addressing, how they reconcile their\nmanufacture and sale of spirits with another command of the Bible? _Woe\nunto him that giveth his neighbor drink, that puttest thy bottle to him,\nand makest him drunken also, that thou mayest look on their nakedness._\nTrue, this applies most emphatically to the retailer of spirits: but\nwhat could the retailer do if there were no distillery; and what could\nthe distiller do if the farmer withheld the materials? All these men are\nengaged, directly or indirectly, in giving their neighbors drink; and\nthough it may pass through many hands before it reaches all their\nmouths, yet where must the burden of the guilt rest, if not upon those\nwho stand at the head of the series, and first convert the articles\nwhich God has given to nourish and sustain life into active poison for\nits destruction; and then, for the sake of a paltry pecuniary profit,\nsend it round amongst their neighbors, accompanied with all the plagues\nthat issued from the fabled Pandora's box?\n\nFinally, let me ask these men how the business of preparing ardent\nspirits for the community appears to them when they think most seriously\nof another world? In the hours of sober reflection, on the Sabbath,\nduring seasons of devotion, when sickness overtakes you, and death seems\nnear, or you stand by the dying-bed of some one of your family or\nneighbors; at such seasons can you look back upon this pursuit with\npleasure? If conscience then tells you that this business ought to be\ngiven up, Oh remember, that conscience is an honest and faithful friend\nat such times, and that, as this pursuit then appears to you, so will it\nappear when you come actually to die. Test this business, I beseech you,\nby bringing it in imagination to the scrutiny of your dying hour.\nWhether it be lawful or unlawful, certain it is that it sends five\nhundred drunkards into eternity every week; and you have the express\ntestimony of the Bible, that no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of\nGod. As the Bible is true, then, are not the manufacturers of ardent\nspirits in our land the means of sending five hundred souls to hell\nevery week? Tell me, my friends, how will this awful truth appear to you\non the bed of death? And how does it appear when you look forward to the\nfinal judgment, and realize that you must meet there fifty or an\nhundred, or five hundred times five hundred drunkards, made such through\nyour instrumentality, for one, or two, or ten years, and must there\njustify yourselves for this instrumentality, or go away with them into\nperdition, covered with their blood and followed by their execrations?\n\nOh, my friends, these are realities; and they are near. Do you begin to\ndoubt whether you are in the path of duty? Listen, I beseech you, to the\nfirst whispers of the faithful monitor in your bosom.\n\nBy the reasonings of philosophy, by the testimony of physicians, by the\nexpostulations of your bleeding country, by the tears, the rags, and the\nwretchedness of three hundred thousand drunkards, with their wives and\nchildren; by the warnings of personal friendship, and by the sanctions\nof the divine law, the solemnities of death and the judgment, and the\ngroans of ten thousand drunkards, rising from the pit, I entreat you,\nabandon at once and for ever this most unrighteous employment, and save\nyourselves from the eternal agonies of conscience, the execrations of\nmillions, and the wrath of Omnipotence.\n\n\n\n\nADDRESS TO\nTHE YOUNG MEN OF THE UNITED STATES,\nON TEMPERANCE.\n\nBY RT. REV. C. P. M'ILVAINE, D. D.\n\n\nIn addressing the Young Men of the United States in regard to the great\nenterprise of promoting the universal prevalence of Temperance, we are\nnot aware that any time need be occupied in apology. Our motives cannot\nbe mistaken. The magnitude of the cause, and the importance of that\ncooperation in its behalf which this address is designed to promote,\nwill vindicate the propriety of its respectful call upon the attention\nof those by whom it shall ever be received.\n\nIt is presumed that every reader is already aware of the extensive and\nenergetic movements at present advancing in our country in behalf of\nTemperance. That an unprecedented interest in this work has been\nrecently excited, and is still rapidly strengthening in thousands of\ndistricts; that talent, wisdom, experience, learning, and influence are\nnow enlisted in its service, with a measure of zeal and harmony far\nsurpassing what was ever witnessed before in such a cause; that great\nthings have already been accomplished; that much greater are near at\nhand; and that the whole victory will be eventually won, if the\ntemperate portion of society are not wanting to their solemn duty, must\nhave been seen already by those living along the main channels of public\nthought and feeling. Elevated, as we now are, upon a high tide of\ngeneral interest and zeal--a tide which may either go on increasing its\nflood till it has washed clean the very mountain tops, and drowned\nintemperance in its last den; or else subside, and leave the land\ninfected with a plague, the more malignant and incurable from the dead\nremains of a partial inundation--it has become a question of universal\napplication, which those who are now at the outset of their influence in\nsociety should especially consider: \"What can _we_ do, and what _ought_\nwe to do in this cause?\" For the settlement of this question we invite\nyou to a brief view of the whole ground on which temperance measures are\nnow proceeding.\n\nIt cannot be denied that our country is most horribly scourged by\nintemperance. In the strong language of Scripture, _it groaneth and\ntravaileth in pain, to be delivered from the bondage of this\ncorruption_. Our country is free; _with a great price obtained we this\nfreedom_. We feel as if all the force of Europe could not get it from\nour embrace. Our shores would shake into the depth of the sea the\ninvader who should presume to seek it. One solitary citizen led away\ninto captivity, scourged, chained by a foreign enemy, would rouse the\noldest nerve in the land to indignant complaint, and league the whole\nnation in loud demand for redress. And yet it cannot be denied that our\ncountry is enslaved. Yes, we are groaning under a most desolating\nbondage. The land is trodden down under its polluting foot. Our families\nare continually dishonored, ravaged, and bereaved; thousands annually\nslain, and hundreds of thousands carried away into a loathsome slavery,\nto be ground to powder under its burdens, or broken upon the wheel of\nits tortures.\n\nWhat are the statistics of this traffic? Ask the records of madhouses,\nand they will answer, that one-third of all their wretched inmates were\nsent there by Intemperance. Ask the keepers of our prisons, and they\nwill testify that, with scarcely an exception, their horrible population\nis from the schools of Intemperance. Ask the history of the 200,000\npaupers now burdening the hands of public charity, and you will find\nthat two-thirds of them have been the victims, directly or indirectly,\nof Intemperance. Inquire at the gates of death, and you will learn that\nno less than 30,000 souls are annually passed for the judgment-bar of\nGod, driven there by Intemperance. How many slaves are at present among\nus? We ask not of slaves to man, but to Intemperance, in comparison with\nwhose bondage the yoke of the tyrant is freedom. They are estimated at\n480,000! And what does the nation pay for the honor and happiness of\nthis whole system of ruin? _Five times as much, every year, as for the\nannual support of its whole system of government._ These are truths, so\noften published, so widely sanctioned, so generally received, and so\nlittle doubted, that we need not detail the particulars by which they\nare made out. What, then, is the whole amount of guilt and of woe which\nthey exhibit? Ask Him \"unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known,\nand from whom no secrets are hid.\" Ask _Eternity_!\n\nThe biographer of Napoleon, speaking of the loss sustained by England on\nthe field of Waterloo, says, \"Fifteen thousand men killed and wounded,\nthrew half Britain into mourning. It required all the glory and all the\nsolid advantages of that day to reconcile the mind to the high price at\nwhich it was purchased.\" But what mourning would fill _all_ Britain, if\nevery year should behold another Waterloo? But what does every year\nrepeat in our peaceful land? Ours is a carnage not exhibited only once\nin a single field, but going on continually, in every town and hamlet.\nEvery eye sees its woes, every ear catches its groans. The wounded are\ntoo numerous to count. Who is not wounded by the intemperance of this\nnation? But of the dead we count, year by year, more than double the\nnumber that filled half Britain with mourning. Ah, could we behold the\nmany thousands whom our destroyer annually delivers over unto death,\ncollected together upon one field of slaughter, for one funeral, and one\ndeep and wide burial-place; could we behold a full assemblage of all the\nparents, widows, children, friends, whose hearts have been torn by their\ndeath, surrounding that awful grave, and loading the winds with tales of\nwoe, the whole land would cry out at the spectacle. It would require\nsomething more than \"_all the glory_,\" and \"_all the solid advantages_\"\nof Intemperance, \"_to reconcile the mind to the high price at which they\nwere purchased_.\"\n\nBut enough is known of the intemperance of this country to render it\nundeniable by the most ignorant inhabitant, that a horrible scourge is\nindeed upon us.\n\nAnother assertion is equally unquestionable. _The time has come when a\ngreat effort must be made to exterminate this unequalled destroyer._ It\nwas high time this was done when the first drunkard entered eternity to\nreceive the award of Him who has declared that no drunkard shall enter\nthe kingdom of God. The demand for this effort has been growing in the\nperemptory tone of its call, as \"the overflowing scourge\" has passed\nwith constantly extending sweep through the land. But a strange apathy\nhas prevailed among us. As if the whole nation had been drinking the cup\nof delusion, we saw the enemy coming in like a flood, and we lifted up\nscarcely a straw against him. As if the magicians of Egypt had\nprevailed over us by their enchantments, we beheld our waters of\nrefreshment turned into blood, and a destroying sword passing through\ntill \"there was a great cry\" in the land, for there was scarcely \"a\nhouse where there was not one dead;\" and still our hearts were hardened,\nand we would not let go the great sin for which these plagues were\nbrought upon us. It seems as if some foul demon had taken his seat upon\nthe breast of the nation, and was holding us down with the dead weight\nof a horrid nightmare, while he laughed at our calamity and mocked at\nour fear--when our fear came as desolation, and our destruction as a\nwhirlwind.\n\nShall this state continue? Is not the desolation advancing? Have not\nfacilities of intemperance, temptations to intemperance, examples to\nsanction intemperance, been fast increasing ever since this plague\nbegan? Without some effectual effort, is it not certain they will\ncontinue to increase, till intemperate men and their abettors will form\nthe public opinion and consequently the public conscience and the public\nlaw of this land--till intemperance shall become, like leviathan of old,\n\"king over all the children of pride,\" whose breath kindleth coals, and\na \"flame goeth out of his mouth?\" Then what will effort of man avail?\n\"Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook? His heart is as firm as a\nstone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. He drinketh up a\nriver, and hasteth not. When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are\nafraid.\"\n\nIt is too late to put off any longer the effort for deliverance. It is\ngranted by the common sense, and urged by the common interest; every\nfeeling of humanity and every consideration of religion enforces the\nbelief that the time has come when a great onset is imperiously demanded\nto drive out intemperance from the land.\n\nThis, to be great, _must be universal_. The whole country is enslaved;\nand the whole country must rise up at once, like an armed man, and\ndetermine to be free. Of what lasting avail would it be for one section\nof territory, here and there, to clear itself, while the surrounding\nregions should remain under the curse? The temperance reformation has no\nquarantine to fence out the infected. Geographical boundaries are no\nbarriers against contagion. Rivers and mountains are easily crossed by\ncorrupting example. Ardent spirits, like all other fluids, perpetually\nseek their level. In vain does the farmer eradicate from his fields the\nlast vestige of the noisome thistle, while the neighboring grounds are\ngiven up to its dominion, and every wind scatters the seed where it\nlisteth. The effort against intemperance, to be effective, _must be\nuniversal_.\n\nHere, then, are three important points which we may safely assume as\nentirely unquestionable: that _our country is horribly scourged by\nintemperance_; that _the time has come when a great effort is demanded\nfor the expulsion of this evil_; and that _no effort can be effectual\nwithout being universal_. Hence is deduced, undeniably, the conclusion\nthat it is the duty, and the solemn duty of the people, in every part of\nthis country, to rise up at once, and act vigorously and unitedly in the\nfurtherance of whatever measures are best calculated to promote\nreformation.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHere the question occurs, _What can be done? How can this woe be\narrested?_ The answer is plain. Nothing can be done, but in one of the\nthree following ways. You must either suffer people to drink\n_immoderately_; or you must endeavor to promote _moderation_ in\ndrinking; or you must try to persuade them to drink _none at all_. One\nof these plans must be adopted. Which shall we choose? The first is\ncondemned already.\n\nWhat say we to the second, the _moderate use_ of intoxicating drinks? It\nhas unquestionably the sanction of high and ancient ancestry. It is\nprecisely the plan on which intemperance has been wrestled with ever\nsince it was first discovered that \"wine is a mocker,\" and that \"strong\ndrink is raging.\" But hence comes its condemnation. Its long use is its\ndeath-witness. Were it new, we might hope something from its adoption.\nBut it is old enough to have been tried to the uttermost. The wisdom,\nthe energy, the benevolence of centuries have made the best of it. The\nattempt to keep down intemperance by endeavoring to persuade people to\nindulge only moderately in strong drink, has been the world's favorite\nfor ages; while every age has wondered that the vice increased so\nrapidly.\n\nAt last we have been awakened to a fair estimate of the success of the\nplan. And what is it? So far from its having shown the least tendency to\nexterminate the evil, it is the mother of all its abominations. All who\nhave attained the stature of full-grown intemperance, were once children\nin this nursery, sucking at the breasts of this parent. All the \"men of\nstrength to mingle strong drink,\" who are now full graduates in the\nvice, and \"masters in the arts\" of drunkenness, began their education\nand served their apprenticeship under the discipline of moderate\ndrinking. All that have learned to lie down in the streets, and carry\nterror into their families, and whom intemperance has conducted to the\npenitentiary and the madhouse, may look back to this as the beginning of\ntheir course--the author of their destiny. No man ever set out to use\nstrong drink with the expectation of becoming eventually a drunkard. No\nman ever became a drunkard without having at first assured himself that\nhe could keep a safe rein upon every disposition that might endanger his\nstrict sobriety. \"_I am in no danger while I only take a little_,\" is\nthe first principle in the doctrine of intemperance. It is high time it\nwere discarded. It has deluged the land with vice, and sunk the\npopulation into debasement. The same results will ensue again, just in\nproportion as the moderate use of ardent spirits continues to be\nencouraged. Let the multitude continue to drink a little, and still our\nhundreds of thousands will annually drink to death.\n\nIt is settled, therefore, that to encourage moderate drinking is not the\nplan on which the temperance reformation can be successfully prosecuted.\nThe faithful experiment of generation after generation, decides that it\nmust be abandoned. A cloud of witnesses, illustrating its consequences\nin all the tender mercies of a drunkard's portion, demand that it should\nbe abandoned. Its full time is come. Long enough have we refused to open\nour eyes to the evident deceitfulness of its pretensions. At last the\ncountry is awaking, and begins to realize the emptiness of this dream.\nLet it go as a dream, and only be remembered that we may wonder how it\ndeceived, and lament how it injured us.\n\nBut, if this be discarded, what plan of reformation remains? If nothing\nis to be expected from endeavoring to promote a _moderate_ use of ardent\nspirits, and still less from an _immoderate_ use, what can be done?\nThere is but one possible answer. _Persuade people to use none at all._\n_Total abstinence_ is the only plan on which reformation can be hoped\nfor. We are shut up to this. We have tried the consequences of\nencouraging people to venture but moderately into the atmosphere of\ninfection; and we are now convinced that it was the very plan to feed\nits strength and extend its ravages. We are forced to the conclusion,\nthat, to arrest the pestilence, we must starve it. All the healthy must\nabstain from its neighborhood. All those who are now temperate must give\nup the use of the means of intemperance. The deliverance of this land\nfrom its present degradation, and from the increasing woes attendant on\nthis vice, depends altogether upon the extent to which the principle of\ntotal abstinence shall be adopted by our citizens.\n\nBut suppose this principle universally adopted, would it clear the\ncountry of intemperance? Evidently it is the only, but is it the\neffectual remedy? Most certainly, if all temperate persons would disuse\nardent spirits, they could not cease to be temperate. Many a drunkard,\nunder the powerful check of their omnipresent reproof, would be sobered.\nHis companions would totter, one after another, to their graves. A few\nyears would see them buried, and the land relinquished to the temperate.\nThen what would be the security against a new inroad of the exterminated\nvice? Why, public opinion would stand guard at every avenue by which it\ncould come in.\n\nConsider the operation of this influence. Why is it now so easy to\nentice a young man into the haunts of drunkenness? Because public\nopinion favors the use of the very means of his ruin. He may drink\nhabitually, and fasten upon himself the appetite of drink, till he\nbecomes enchained and feels himself a slave; but if he has never fallen\ninto manifest intoxication, he has forfeited no character in public\nopinion. All this is a direct result of the fact, that those considered\nas temperate people set the example, and patronize the snare of moderate\ndrinking. But suppose them to take the ground proposed, and bear down\nwith the whole force of their example and influence on the side of\nentire abstinence, would they not create an immense force of public\nopinion against the least use of ardent spirits? How then could a\ntemperate man ever become a drunkard? He has not yet contracted the\ndesire for ardent spirits; and how will he contract it? Will he risk his\ncharacter; fly in the face of public feeling and opinion; despise all\nthe warnings in the history of intemperance, to get at the use, and put\nhimself under the torture of that for which, as yet, he has no\ndisposition? Only post a wakeful public sentiment at the little opening\nof moderate drinking, and the whole highway to the drunkard's ruin will\nbe closed up. All its present travellers will soon pass away, while none\nwill be entering to keep up the character of the road.\n\nMost assuredly, then, the reformation of the land is in the power of\npublic opinion. It is equally certain, that public opinion will\naccomplish nothing but by setting its influence directly in opposition\nto _any_ indulgence in strong drink. And it is just as plain, that in\norder to accomplish this, the temperate part of the population must\ncreate a power of example by setting out upon the firm and open ground\nof total abstinence. In proportion, then, as the temperate throughout\nthe country shall come up to this ground, will the redemption of our\nenslaved republic be accomplished.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus have we arrived at the last refuge of this cause. ABSTAIN ENTIRELY,\nis the grand principle of life, to be written upon the sacred standard\nof all temperance movements, and under which the contending host may be\nas sure of victory as if, like Constantine, they saw inscribed with a\nsunbeam upon the cloud, _In hoc signo vinces_.[F] But such being the\neminent importance of total abstinence, it deserves to be presented in\ndetail. We begin, therefore, with the position, that\n\n_Entire abstinence from ardent spirits is essential to personal\nsecurity._ Such is the insidious operation of strong drink upon all the\nbarriers we may set up against excess; so secretly does it steal upon\nthe taste, excite the appetite, disorganize the nervous system, and\nundermine the deepest resolutions of him who imagines himself in\nperfect security; so numerous and awful have been its victories over\nevery barrier, and every species of mental and bodily constitution, that\nwe may lay it down as an assertion, which none who know the annals of\nintemperance will dispute, that no individual who permits himself to use\nardent spirits moderately, has any valid security that he will not\nbecome a victim to its power.\n\n    [Footnote F: Under this standard you shall conquer.]\n\nWe know the remarks which instantly mount to the lips of many at the\nsight of such an assertion: \"Surely the little we take can never hurt\nus. Look around and see how many have done the same, and continued the\nhabit to the end of life, without having ever been betrayed into\ndrunkenness.\" We do look around, and are constrained to remark, how many\nhave seemed to live temperately to the end, who, if the reality were\nknown, would be quoted as warnings against the insidiousness of the\npoison, instead of examples of the security with which it may be used in\nmoderation. They were never delirious; but were they never fevered?\nFever is often fatal, without delirium. Ah, did every disease with which\nhuman beings are fevered, and swollen, and slain, receive a candid name;\nwere every gravestone inscribed with a true memorial, as well of the\nlife, as the death of him at whose head it stands; could every\nconsumption, and dropsy, and liver-complaint, disclose its secret\nhistory; did every shaking nerve, and palsied stomach, and aching\ntemple, and burning brain, and ruptured blood-vessel, relate how it\nbegan, and grew, and triumphed, we should hear, indeed, of many who died\nin consumption, or dropsy, and other diseases, without any impulse\ntowards the grave from the use of strong drink; but of how many, never\nregarded as intemperate, should we learn that the real, though slow and\nsilent cause of their death was _drink_. They lingered long, and their\nmalady was called a disease of the lungs; or they fell suddenly, and it\nwas a case of apoplexy; or they were greatly swollen, and it was\nconsidered dropsy; they lost their powers of digestion, and were said to\nbe troubled with dyspepsia; every vital function refused its natural\naction, and the poor victim was treated for a liver-complaint. But why?\nwhat produced the disease? Alcohol! They were poisoned. They died of the\nintemperate use of ardent spirits, however moderately they may have had\nthe credit of indulging in them.\n\nBut again, we look at the world, and while we cannot acknowledge that\nthey have habitually indulged in even a moderate use of ardent spirits\nwithout receiving some injury--for alcohol must hurt a healthy man in\nsome way or other--we do acknowledge that many have thus indulged with\nno very perceptible injury. They have continued sober. But so it must be\nacknowledged, that many have breathed the air and mingled with the\nvictims of a pestilence, without being infected; or stood amidst the\ncarnage of battle, without receiving a wound. But were they in no\ndanger? Because they came off unhurt, shall _we_ be willing to rush into\nthe streets of an infected city, or join the conflict of charging\nbattalions?\n\nBut again, we look at the world, and see how many have been slain, while\nmany have lived; how many who, if exalted station, eminent talents,\ngreat attainments, excellent feelings, and heavy responsibilities, are\nany security, might, with more than usual reason, have flattered\nthemselves with the assurance of safety: men of all professions, of\nstrong nerves, and numerous resolutions and precautions, at last reduced\nto a level with the brutes; and this spectacle forces the conviction\nthat entire abstinence is the only security against final ruin. Had you\na tree in your gardens, the fruit of which should be discovered to have\ninflicted disease as often as the prudent use of ardent spirits has\nresulted in the sorrows of intemperance, that tree would be rooted up.\nIts fruit would be entitled _poison_. The neighborhood would be afraid\nof it. Children would be taught to beware of so much as venturing to try\nhow it tastes.\n\nAgain: _The total disuse of ardent spirits, on the part of parents, is\nthe only plan of safety in bringing up their children._ How many are the\nparents whose lives are cursed with children who, were it not that \"no\ndrunkard hath any inheritance in the kingdom of God,\" they would be\nrelieved to hear were dead! But how were those children ruined? \"_Ah, by\nthose corrupting companions; by that vile dram-shop_,\" the parents would\nanswer. But what first inclined their way to that house of seduction? By\nwhat avenue did evil associates first effect a lodgment in those\nchildren's hearts? How many parents must turn and look at home for an\nanswer! They have not been intemperate; but while the tastes and habits\nof their children were forming, they used to drink moderately of ardent\nspirits. The decanter containing it had an honorable place on the\nsideboard and on the table. It was treated respectfully, as a fountain\nof strength to the feeble, of refreshment to the weary; and as perfectly\nsafe when used in moderation. To offer it to a friend was a debt of\nhospitality. Thus the whole weight of parental example was employed in\nimpressing those children with a favorable idea of the pleasure, the\nbenefit, and the security, not to speak of the necessity, of the use of\nardent spirits. Thus the parents presented the decanter of strong drink\nto their children, with a recommendation as forcible as if every day\nthey had encircled it with a chaplet of roses, and pronounced an oration\nin its praise.\n\nAnd what consequences were to be expected? Children who revere their\nparents will honor what their parents delight to honor. It was not to be\nsupposed that those children would do else than imitate the high example\nbefore them. Most naturally would they try the taste, and emulate to\nacquire a fondness for strong drink. They would think it sheer folly to\nbe afraid of what their parents used. In a little while the flavor would\nbecome grateful. They would learn to think of it, ask for it, contrive\nways of obtaining it, and be very accessible to the snares of those who\nused it to excess. Thus easily would they slide into the pit. And thus\nthe history of the decline, and fall, and death of multitudes must\ncommence, not at the dram-shop, but at the tables of parents; not with\ndescribing the influence of seductive companions, but with a lamentation\nover the examples of inconsiderate parents, who furnished those\ncompanions with their strongest argument, and wreathed their cup of\ndeath with a garland of honor.\n\nSuch consequences must be looked for wherever parental example is\nexpected to be held in reverence among children. A father may venture to\nthe brink of a precipice, and stand without giddiness upon the margin of\nthe torrent that rushes by and plunges into a deep abyss; but will he\ntrust his child to occupy the same position? But if the child see him\nthere, is there no danger that when the parent's eye is away, he too\nwill venture, and go and play upon the frightful verge, and be amused\nwith the bubbles as they dance along the side of the cataract, and at\nlast become giddy, and be drawn in with the rush of the tide?\n\nEntire abstinence from the drink of drunkards is the parents' only plan\nin training up their children.\n\nAgain: _The total disuse of ardent spirits is essential to the\nbeneficial influence of the example of the temperate upon society at\nlarge._\n\nHowever novel the assertion to some, it can be easily shown that the\nexample of all who use ardent spirits, except as they use prescribed\nmedicine, _is in the scale of intemperance_. As far as its influence\nextends, it helps directly to fill up the ranks of the intemperate, and\nannually to launch a multitude of impenitent souls into a hopeless\neternity. Can this be true? Suppose all the rising generation, in\nimitation of their elders, should commence the moderate use of strong\ndrink. They are thus attracted into the current of the stream which is\nsetting silently, smoothly, powerfully, towards the roaring whirlpool.\nBut now they are urged by those whose example they have thus far\nfollowed, to go no farther. \"Beware,\" they cry, \"the tide is strong; do\nlike us; drop the anchor, ply the oar.\" Ah, but now their influence\nfails. It was strong enough to persuade the thoughtless into danger; but\nnow it is perfectly impotent to keep them from ruin. They have none of\nthe strength or prudence by which others have been enabled to keep their\nplace. They have no anchor to drop, nor skill at the oar. They yield,\nand go down, and perish. But where must we look for the prime cause of\nthis destruction? To those whose example enticed them into the way--_the\nexample of prudent drinkers_.\n\nSuch, unquestionably, was the influence by which a great portion of\nthose now intemperate were first drawn into the snares of death. It is\nnot, as many suppose, the odious example of those already under the\ndominion of intemperate habits, by which others are seduced; the\noperation of such disgusting precedents is rather on the side of entire\nabstinence from the means of their debasement. But it is to the honor\ngiven the degrading cup, by those who can drink without what is\nconsidered excess, that we must ascribe, in a great degree, the first\nseduction of all who receive the ultimate wages of intemperance.\n\nAgain: Entire abstinence from strong drink should be the rule of all;\nbecause, _to one in health, it never does good, but, on the contrary, it\nalways, of its very nature, does harm_. We know the general idea, that\nhard labor, and cold weather, and a hot sun demand its use; that a\nlittle to stimulate the appetite, and a little to help digestion, and a\nlittle to compose us to sleep, and a little to refresh us when fatigued,\nand a little to enliven us when depressed, is very useful, if not\nnecessary. And we know how soon so many little matters make a great\namount. We have often been called to \"behold how great a matter a little\nfire kindleth.\" A more unfounded idea never was adopted, than that a man\nin health can need such medicine. Is there any nourishment in drinking\nalcohol? About as much as in eating fire.\n\nBut why should not the opinions of physicians suffice on this point? If\nwe take their advice as to what will cure us when sick, why not also as\nto what will injure us when well? The first medical men throughout the\nland do not more perfectly agree, that to breathe a foul atmosphere is\npernicious, than that the use of strong drink, in any quantity, is\nhurtful. _Abstain entirely_, is their loud and reiterated advice. Many\nof them will even maintain that it can easily and profitably be\ndispensed with in medicine.\n\nBut how speaks experience on this head? Who works the longest under the\nsun of August, or stands the firmest against the winter, or abides the\nsafest amidst abounding disease, or arrives last at the infirmities of\nold age? The experiment of total abstinence has been fairly tried in\nthousands of cases, by those who once imagined they must drink a little\nevery day; and invariably have they borne a grateful testimony to its\nhappy effects upon the health of their bodies and the peace of their\nminds. Farms are tilled, harvests gathered, ships built, companies of\nmilitia parade, associations of firemen labor, fishermen stand their\nexposure, the student trims his lamp, the hungry eat their bread, and\nthe weary take their rest, with no debt of thanks to the aid of the\ndistillery.\n\nWe say no more upon the plan of entire abstinence. But we will mention\nfour reasons which should embolden any friend of temperance in urging it\nupon others.\n\n1. It is extremely _simple_. All can comprehend, all can execute it. It\nrequires no labor; costs no study; consumes no time.\n\n2. It contains no _coercion_. Its whole force is that of reason. The\ninfluence of laws and of magistrates it does not embrace. No man can\ncomplain of a trespass upon his liberty, when we would persuade him to\nescape the drunkard's slavery by not tasting the drunkard's cup.\n\n3. _In this cure there is no pain._ It is recommended to whom? _the\ntemperate_--to those who, having formed no strong attachment to ardent\nspirit, can feel no great self-denial in renouncing its use.\n\n4. In this remedy _there is no expense_. To those who complain of other\nworks of usefulness because of their cost, this is without blame. To\ndrink no spirits, will cost no money. But what will it save? It will\nsave the majority of the poorer class of the population, in most of our\ntowns, one half their annual rent. It will empty all our almshouses and\nhospitals of two thirds their inhabitants, and support the remainder.\nYes, such is the tax which the consumption of ardent spirits annually\nlevies upon this nation, that the simple disuse of strong drink,\nthroughout the land, would save in one year the value of at least five\ntimes the whole national revenue.\n\nIt is too late to say that a general adoption of the great principle of\ntotal abstinence is too much to be hoped for. A few years ago, who would\nnot have been considered almost deranged had he predicted what has\nalready been accomplished in this cause? Great things, wonderful things,\nhave already been effected. The enemies of this reformation, whose\npecuniary interests set them in opposition, are unable to deny this\nfact. It is felt from the distillery to the dram-shop. It is seen from\nMaine to the utmost South and West. Every traveller perceives it. Every\nvender knows it. The whole country wonders at the progress of this\ncause. It is rapidly and powerfully advancing. _One thing_, and only\none, can prevent its entire success. The frenzy of drunkenness cannot\narrest its goings. The hundreds of thousands in the armies of\nintemperance cannot resist its march. But the _temperate_ can. If\nbackward to come up to the vital principle of this work, _they will_\nprevent its accomplishment. But the banner of triumph will wave in peace\nover all the land, hailed by thousands of grateful captives from the\ngripe of death, in spite of all the warring of the \"mighty to drink\nwine,\" if those who abhor intemperance, and think they would be willing\nto make a great sacrifice to save their children or friends from its\nblasting curse, will only come up to the little effort of entire\nabstinence. This is the surest and shortest way to drain off the river\nof fire now flowing through the land. It is the moderate use of the\ntemperate that keeps open the smoking fountains from which that tide is\npoured.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTO YOUNG MEN who have not yet been brought under the dominion of\nintemperate habits, we address the urgent exhortation of this cause.\nConsider the immense responsibility that devolves upon you. It is not\ntoo much to say that the question, whether this nation is to be\ndelivered front the yoke of death--whether the present march of\nreformation shall go on till the last hiding-place of this vice shall be\nsubdued, or else be arrested and turned back, with the sorrow of\nbeholding the vaunting triumph, and the emboldened increase of all the\nministers of woe which attend in the train of intemperance, rests\nultimately with you. You compose the muscle and sinew of this nation.\nYou are to set the example by which the next generation is to be\ninfluenced. By your influence its character will be formed. By your\nstand its position will, in a great measure, be determined. You are soon\nto supplant those who have passed the state of life which you now are\noccupying. Soon the generation that is to grow up under the influence of\nyour example and instruction, will have reached your place. Thus are you\nthe heart of the nation. Corruption and debasement here must be felt to\nthe extremities of the national body. Temperance here will eventually\nexpel, by its strong pulsations, the last remnant of the burning blood\nof drunkenness from the system, and carry soberness and health to every\nmember of our political constitution.\n\nAre these things so? Suppose them exaggerations. Grant that the\nimportance of your vigorous and unanimous cooperation in this work of\nreformation is unreasonably magnified; still, how much can you do. Were\nour coasts invaded by a powerful enemy, come to ravage our cities, chain\nour liberties, poison our fountains, burn our harvests, and carry off\nour youth into perpetual slavery, what could young men do? To whom would\nthe trump of battle be sounded so effectually? Who else would feel upon\nthemselves the chief responsibility for their country's rescue? What\nexcuse could they find for supineness and sloth? Such indeed is the\nenemy by which the country is already desolated. And now it is to the\nwarm hearts, and the strong hands, and the active energies, and the\npowerful example of young men, that the dearest interests of the nation\nlook for deliverance.\n\nYoung men, shall we not enlist heartily and unitedly in promoting the\nextermination of intemperance? What question have we to decide? Is it a\nquestion whether the country is cursed with this plague to a most\nhorrible and alarming extent? No. Is it a question whether the present\npower and the progressive character of intemperance among us demand an\n_immediate_ rising up of all the moral force of the nation to subdue it?\nNo. Is it a question whether the most important part of the strength and\nsuccess of such an effort depends upon the part in it which the young\nmen in the United States shall take? No. Then what does the spirit of\npatriotism say to us? If we love our country; if we would rise in arms\nto shake off the hosts of an invader from our shores; if every heart\namong us would swell with indignation at the attempt of an internal\npower to break in pieces our free constitution, and substitute a\ngovernment of chains and bayonets; what does the love of country bid us\ndo, when by universal acknowledgment an enemy is now among us whose\nbreath is pestilence and whose progress desolation--an enemy that has\nalready done and is daily doing a more dreadful work against the\nhappiness of the people than all the wars and plagues we have ever\nsuffered?\n\nWhat does the voice of common humanity say to us? Can we feel for human\nwoe, and not be moved at the spectacle of wretchedness and despair which\nthe intemperance of this country presents? Let us imagine the condition\nof the hundreds of thousands who are now burning with the hidden flame,\nand hastening to utter destruction by this most pitiless of all vices;\nlet us embrace in one view the countless woes inflicted by the cruel\ntempers, the deep disgrace, the hopeless poverty, and the corrupting\nexamples of all these victims, upon wives, children, parents, friends,\nand the morals of society; let us stand at the graves of the thirty\nthousand that annually perish by intemperance, and there be still, and\nlisten to what the _voice of humanity_ speaks.\n\nWhat does the exhortation of religion say to us? What undermines more\ninsidiously every moral principle of the heart; what palsies so entirely\nevery moral faculty of the soul; what so soon and so awfully makes man\n_dead while he liveth_; what spreads through the whole frame-work of\nsociety such rottenness, or so effectually opens the door to all those\npowers of darkness by which the pillars of public order are crumbled and\nthe restraints of religion are mocked; what so universally excludes from\nthe death-bed of a sinner the consolations of the Gospel, or writes upon\nhis grave such a sentence of despair, as _intemperance_? Behold the\nimmense crowd of its victims! Where are they not seen? Read in the book\nof God that declaration, \"nor thieves, nor _drunkards_, shall inherit\nthe kingdom of God;\" then listen to what the exhortation of Christian\nbenevolence speaks to us. Is it asked, _What can young men do?_ We can\ndo this one thing at least. _We can continue temperate._ What if every\none of us, now free from the appetite of strong drink, should hold on to\nour liberty; how would the ranks of intemperance, which death is\ncontinually wasting, be filled up? But how shall we continue temperate?\nNot by using the means of destruction. Not by a moderate indulgence in\nthe cup of seduction. Not by beginning where all those began who have\nsince ended in ruin. But by _entire abstinence from strong drink_. Let\nus renounce entirely what cannot profit us, what forms no important item\nin our comforts, what may bring us, as it has brought such multitudes as\nstrong as we, to the mire and dirt of drunkenness.\n\nBut we can do something more. We can contribute the influence of our\nexample to help bring into disrepute the use of ardent spirits for any\npurposes but those of medicine. If any of us are confident that we could\ngo on in the moderate, without ever coming to the immoderate use of\nstrong drink, we know that the deliverance of the country from its\npresent curse is utterly hopeless while ardent spirit is in the hands of\nthe people. It must be banished. Public opinion must set it aside. Young\nmen must contribute to form that opinion. It cannot be formed without\nthe total abstinence of the temperate. Let us not dare to stand in its\nway.\n\nBut we can do something more. We have an influence which, in a variety\nof ways, we may use in the community to diminish the temptations which,\nwherever we look, are presented to the unwary to entice them to\nintemperance. We can employ the influence of example, of opinion, and of\npersuasion, to drive out of fashion and into disrepute, the common but\nensnaring practice of evincing hospitality by the display of strong\ndrink, and of testifying friendship and good-will over the glass. We can\ncontribute much powerful cooperation in the effort to make the use of\nardent spirits for the ordinary purposes of drink so unbecoming the\ncharacter of temperate people, that he who wishes to have his reputation\nfor temperance unsuspected, will either renounce the dangerous cup, or\nwait till no eye but that of God can see him taste it. We can do much,\nin union with those of more age and more established influence, to\ncreate a public feeling against the licensing of those innumerable\nhouses of corruption where seduction into the miseries of drunkenness is\nthe trade of their keepers, and the means of destruction are vended so\nlow, and offered so attractively, that the poorest may purchase his\ndeath, and the strongest may be persuaded to do so. These horrible\nabodes of iniquity not only facilitate the daily inebriation of the\nveteran drunkard, but they encourage, and kindle, and nourish, and\nconfirm the incipient appetite of the novice, and put forth the first\ninfluence in that system of persuasion by which the sober are ultimately\nsubdued and levelled to the degradation of wretches, from whose\nloathsomeness they once turned away in disgust. Why are these\ninstruments of cruelty permitted? Not because the authorities will not\nrefuse to license them. Public opinion is the conscience of those\nauthorities. Let the opinions and feelings of that portion of the\ncommunity where the strength and patronage of society reside, be once\nenlisted in opposition to such houses, and the evil will be remedied;\nthe morals of society will not be insulted, nor the happiness of\nfamilies endangered at every step by the agents and means and\nattractions of intemperance. Young men have much to do, and are capable\nof doing a great work in creating such a public opinion.\n\nIn order to exert ourselves with the best effect in the promotion of the\nseveral objects in this great cause to which young men should apply\nthemselves, let us associate ourselves into _Temperance Societies_. We\nknow the importance of associated exertions. We have often seen how a\nfew instruments, severally weak, have become mighty when united. Every\nwork, whether for evil or benevolent purposes, has felt the life, and\nspur, and power of cooperation. The whole progress of the temperance\nreformation, thus far, is owing to the influence of _societies_; to the\ncoming together of the temperate, and the union of their resolutions,\nexamples, and exertions, under the articles of temperance societies.\nThus examples have been brought out, set upon a hill, and made secure.\nThus the weak have been strengthened, the wavering confirmed, the\nirresolute emboldened. Thus public attention has been awakened, public\nfeeling interested, and public sentiment turned and brought to bear.\nThus works have been performed, information distributed, agencies\nemployed, and a thousand instruments set in motion which no industry of\nindividual unassociated action could have reached. Let temperance\nsocieties be multiplied. Every new association is a new battery against\nthe stronghold of the enemy, and gives a new impulse to the hearts of\nthose who have already joined the conflict. Let us arise, and be\ndiligent, and be united; and may the God of mercy bless our work.\n\n\nTHE DRUNKARD IN HIS FAMILY.\n\nHis example is seen daily in the house, and in the parent. It is seen by\nchildren so soon as they can see any thing, and long before their minds\nare capable of distinguishing its nature, or its tendency. The parent\nvisibly regards spirituous liquors as a peculiarly interesting enjoyment\nof sense, at a time when they know no enjoyments but those of sense: of\ncourse they cannot but think it eminently valuable. The means of\nintoxication are also provided to their hand; and their own home, so far\nas a dangerous and malignant influence is concerned, is changed into a\ndram-shop. The mother, in the meantime, not unfrequently contracts the\nsame evil habit from the father; and thus both parents unite in the\nunnatural and monstrous employment of corrupting their children.\n\nWhat a prospect is here presented to our view! A husband and wife, to\nwhom God has given children to be trained up by them for heaven, united\ntogether in taking them by the hand, and leading them coolly to\nperdition. What heart, not made of stone, can look at such a family\nwithout feeling exquisite distress, and the most terrible forebodings?\nContemplate, for a moment, the innocent, helpless beings, perfectly\nunconscious of their danger, and incapable of learning it, thus led as\nvictims to the altar of a modern _Moloch_, less sanguinary, indeed, but\nnot less cruel than the heathen god before whom the Israelitish parents\nburnt their own offspring, and say, whether you most pity the children,\nor detest the parents.\n\nDr. Dwight.\n\n\n\n\nNo. 247.\n\nWHO SLEW ALL THESE?\n\nAN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE.\n\n\nAbout twenty years ago, Mr. and Mrs. ----, decent and respectable people,\nremoved with a family of children from the country to a neighboring\ntown, where they purchased a small house and lot, and lived very\ncomfortably. Their family, however, increasing to five boys, they\nremoved to the shore--the town being situated on a river--and in\naddition to their former means of obtaining a living, erected a sign,\nand provided \"entertainment\" for such as chose to call on them. They\nwere temperate people, accounted honest, and sent their children to the\nmost respectable school in the place. In a short time it was perceived\nthat they too frequently partook of the \"entertainment,\" as it is\ncalled, which they provided for their customers. The habit of daily\nmeasuring the poison to others, induced them to taste for themselves;\ntheir house was not as respectable as formerly; restraints were removed;\nand although they were not drunkards, they gave evidence that they used\ntoo freely the deadly drug which they fearlessly handled. If the\ntemperance reformation had been at that time commenced, they might have\nbeen warned of their danger, and saved from ruin; but nothing arrested\ntheir progress in the path of the destroyer.\n\nTheir children, who used to be clad with garments which denoted a\nmother's industry, soon began to bear marks of neglect, and were by\ndegrees withdrawn from the school--their parents, because of _hard\ntimes_, not being able to support them there. They consequently lounged\nabout, became acquainted with the customers at the bar, and learned\ntheir evil habits, especially that of drinking.\n\nThe parents had commenced the sale of intoxicating drinks to become\nrich; but at the end of a few years it had reduced them to poverty. They\nhad lost their respectability, their honesty, and their property, which\nwas mortgaged for rum; their children had become vagabonds, and their\nhouse a receptacle of vice. Of all their five sons, not one escaped the\ninfection; they and their miserable parents wallowed in the mire\ntogether.\n\nIn consequence of the dreadful excess to which she had abandoned\nherself, the imagination of Mrs. ---- became disordered, and conjured up\nhorrible visions. In her fits of the _delirium tremens_, she fancied\nherself bound with a belt of brass, to which was attached a chain held\nby the great enemy of souls, who had indeed enchained her with the most\ndire and effectual of all his spells. She would cross the room with the\nrapidity of lightning, screaming that he was winding up the chain, and\nshe _must go_--she _could not_ stop. She was afraid to pass her own\nthreshold, and fancied she heard unearthly voices, and saw spirits black\nand hideous all around her. \"There they sit,\" she would say, \"J----,\nM----,\" mentioning the names of all her children; \"there they sit,\ngrinning at me, and telling me I sent them to hell: they are on the\nbeams and in the corners, and wherever I go.\"\n\nThe writer of this has often witnessed her desperate struggles; has seen\nher, when a gleam of reason came over her mind, weep in bitterness over\nher ruin and misery; has heard her confessions of deeds of villany\ncommitted under her roof; and has heard also her solemn vows to refrain\nfrom that which wrought all this misery and sin; but after all this, has\nseen her \"seek it yet again.\"\n\nAll the arguments which religion can offer were set before her, and she\noften appeared to feel their force, and resolved to repent; but the\ndeadly wave seemed to have retired to gather new force, and again swept\nover her and prostrated her lower than \"the beasts that perish.\" There\ncan be no more effectual barrier against the voice of conscience, the\npowerful influence of natural affection, and the strivings of the\nblessed Spirit of God, than the use of intoxicating drinks.\n\nHer husband had made himself literally a beast: his appearance was\nscarcely human; bloated, discolored, tottering, uttering curses, and\nsometimes threatening her life. Her constitution after a while gave\naway, and she sunk in death, snoring out the few last days of her\nexistence in a state of stupor, covered with rags and filth. Her husband\nhad so benumbed every feeling of humanity by his excess, that he seemed\nvery little affected by her death; and to one who reminded him of their\nformer respectability, and spoke of the wretched state to which they\nwere reduced, urging him powerfully, over the dead body of the\nself-murdered wife _now_ to desist, he replied stupidly, that there is\nan _eleventh hour_.\n\nFour or five years have elapsed, and he is still in the same state of\nbeastly degradation--his property entirely gone, and he occasionally\nearning a few cents, with which to purchase the poison which is\nconsuming his vitals, and rendering him stupid and dead to every motive\nthat can be urged for reformation.\n\nTwo of the sons of this unhappy man have gone down to death in an awful\nmanner. Another, in an affray occasioned by intoxication, received such\nan injury in the head that his intellect has suffered, and he is subject\nto fits of partial derangement. The other two are very intemperate; one\nof them apparently lost to all sense of shame.\n\nThe circumstances attending the death of one of these young men were\nextraordinary. He had become subject to fits in consequence of his\nintemperate life; and his wife following the same course, they were\nobliged to give up keeping a public-house, and he maintained himself by\nfishing. He frequently stopped colored people and others who were\nadvertised as runaways, and obtained a reward for returning them to\ntheir masters. He was brutally cruel in his treatment of those who thus\nfell into his hands, and on one occasion, having apprehended a young\ncolored man on suspicion of his being a runaway, he confined him; and\ntaking him in a boat to his master--who had sent him from home on\nbusiness--as he was returning, he fell from the boat, probably in a fit,\nand sunk like lead into the mighty waters. On the following day search\nwas made for his body, which was found swollen and disfigured, and laid\nin the grave.\n\nHis brother, the youngest of the five, had not reached his twentieth\nyear, but had given himself up to the influence of the vice which has\nproved the destruction of his family, until he also was subject to fits.\nNot many months ago he was seized with one, being then intoxicated; he\nwas recovered by the by-standers, and crawled to a small sloop lying\npartly on the shore for repairs: he laid himself down there, and was\nfound, ten minutes afterwards, _dead_, with his head partly under water.\nIt was supposed that another fit had seized him, and that in his\nstruggle he had fallen and suffocated.\n\nThis is a melancholy history, but a true one. Many circumstances\nrendering it more striking are suppressed, as some of the parties are\nliving. The old man, but a short time ago, was warned again, and the\nquestion put to him, \"What are the benefits of this practice?\" \"It\n_fattens graveyards_!\" he replied, with a distorted countenance and a\nhorrid laugh.\n\nYes, such are the dire results of intemperance; and of intemperance not\nborn with one, but brought on by a temperate use of ardent spirit. These\nfacts are well known. They are published with the hope of their proving\na restraint to some one who, trusting in the strength of principle, may\noccasionally taste this destructive poison.\n\n\"Look not upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his color in the\ncup, when it moveth itself aright: at the last it biteth like a serpent,\nand stingeth like an adder.\" Go to God for strength to resist\ntemptation; practise entire abstinence from all that can intoxicate;\nrepent of sin, and trust in the mercy of Christ; and you shall be safe\nfor the present life, and that which is to come.\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\nEFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE\nON THE\nMORAL, INTELLECTUAL, AND PHYSICAL POWERS.\n\nBY THOMAS SEWALL, M. D.,\n\nPROFESSOR OF ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY\nIN THE COLUMBIAN COLLEGE, WASHINGTON CITY.\n\n\nI address you, fellow-citizens, to enlist your sympathies and efforts in\nbehalf of an institution which, in accordance with the spirit of the\ntimes, has been established through our land by the almost united voice\nof the nation, and this for the suppression of one of the most alarming\nevils that ever infested human society; a vice, too, so odious in its\nnature, so injurious in its consequences, and attended with so many\ncircumstances of suffering, mortification, and disgrace, that it seems\ndifficult to understand how it should ever have become a prevalent evil\namong mankind; and more especially how it should have come down to us\nfrom the early periods of society, gaining strength, and power, and\ninfluence, in its descent. That such is the fact, requires no proof. Its\ndevastating effects are but too obvious. In these latter times, more\nespecially, it has swept over our land with the rapidity and power of a\ntempest, bearing down every thing in its course. Not content with\nrioting in the haunts of ignorance and vice, it has passed through our\nconsecrated groves, has entered our most sacred enclosures: and O, how\nmany men of genius and of letters have fallen before it; how many lofty\nintellects have been shattered and laid in ruins by its power; how many\na warm and philanthropic heart has been chilled by its icy touch! It has\nleft no retreat unvisited; it has alike invaded our public and private\nassemblies, our political and social circles, our courts of justice and\nhalls of legislation. It has stalked within the very walls of our\ncapitol, and there left the stain of its polluting touch on our national\nglory. It has leaped over the pale of the church, and even reached up\nits sacrilegious arm to the pulpit and dragged down some of its richest\nornaments. It has revelled equally on the spoils of the palace and the\ncottage, and has seized its victims, with an unsparing grasp, from every\nclass of society; the private citizen and public functionary, the high\nand the low, the rich and the poor, the enlightened and the ignorant:\nand where is there a family among us so happy as not to have wept over\nsome of its members, who have fallen by the hand of this ruthless\ndestroyer?\n\nAs a nation, intemperance has corrupted our morals, impaired our\nintellect, and enfeebled our physical strength. Indeed, in whatever\nlight we view it, whether as an individual, a social, or national evil,\nas affecting our personal independence and happiness, our national\nwealth and industry; as reducing our power of naval and military\ndefence, as enfeebling the intellectual energies of the nation, and\nundermining the health of our fellow-citizens; as sinking the patriotism\nand valor of the nation, as increasing paupers, poverty, and taxation,\nas sapping the foundation of our moral and religious institutions, or as\nintroducing disorder, distress, and ruin into families and society; it\ncalls to us, in a voice of thunder, to awake from our slumbers, to seize\nevery weapon, and wield every power which God and nature have placed\nwithin our reach, to protect ourselves and our fellow-citizens from its\nravages.\n\nBut the occasion will not permit me to dwell on the general effects of\nintemperance, nor to trace the history of its causes. I shall,\ntherefore, confine myself more particularly to a consideration of its\ninfluence on the individual; its effects on the moral, intellectual, and\nphysical constitution of man--not the primary effect of ardent spirit as\ndisplayed in a fit of intoxication; it is the more insidious, permanent,\nand fatal effects of intemperance, as exemplified in the case of the\nhabitual dram-drinker, to which I wish to call your attention.\n\n\nI. The effects of ardent spirit on THE MORAL POWERS. It is perhaps\ndifficult to determine in what way intemperance first manifests its\ninfluence on the moral powers, so variously does it affect different\nindividuals. Were I to speak from my own observation, I should say that\nit first appears in an alienation of those kind and tender sympathies\nwhich bind a man to his family and friends; those lively sensibilities\nwhich enable him to participate in the joys and sorrows of those around\nhim. \"The social affections lose their fulness and tenderness, the\nconscience its power, the heart its sensibility, till all that was once\nlovely, and rendered him the joy and the idol of his friends, retires,\"\nand leaves him to the dominion of the appetites and passions of the\nbrute. \"Religious enjoyment, if he ever possessed any, declines as the\nemotions excited by ardent spirit arise.\" He loses, by degrees, his\nregard to truth and to the fulfilment of his engagements--he forgets the\nSabbath and the house of worship, and lounges upon his bed, or lingers\nat the tavern. He lays aside his Bible--his family devotion is not\nheard, and his closet no longer listens to the silent whispers of\nprayer. He at length becomes irritable, peevish, and profane; and is\nfinally lost to every thing that respects decorum in appearance, or\nvirtue in principle; and it is lamentable to mark the steps of that\nprocess by which the virtuous and elevated man sinks to ruin.\n\n\nII. Its effects on THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. Here the influence of\nintemperance is marked and decisive. The inebriate first loses his\nvivacity and natural acuteness of perception. His judgment becomes\nclouded and impaired in its strength, the memory also enfeebled and\nsometimes quite obliterated. The mind is wandering and vacant, and\nincapable of intense or steady application to any one subject. This\nstate is usually accompanied by an unmeaning stare or fixedness of\ncountenance quite peculiar to the drunkard. The imagination and the\nwill, if not enfeebled, acquire a morbid sensibility, from which they\nare thrown into a state of violent excitement from the slightest causes:\nhence, the inebriate sheds floods of tears over the pictures of his own\nfancy. I have often seen him, and especially on his recovery from a fit\nof intoxication, weep and laugh alternately over the same scene. The\nwill, too, acquires an omnipotent ascendency over him, and is the only\nmonitor to which he yields obedience. The appeals of conscience, the\nclaims of domestic happiness, of wives and children, of patriotism and\nof virtue, are not heard.\n\nThe different powers of the mind having thus lost their natural relation\nto each other, the healthy balance being destroyed, the intellect is no\nlonger fit for intense application, or successful effort; and although\nthe inebriate may, and sometimes does, astonish, by the wildness of his\nfancy and the poignancy of his wit, yet in nine cases out of ten he\nfails, and there is never any confidence to be reposed in him. There\nhave been a few who, from peculiarity of constitution, or some other\ncause, have continued to perform intellectual labor for many years,\nwhile slaves to ardent spirits; but in no instance has the vigor of the\nintellect or its ability to labor been increased by indulgence; and\nwhere there is one who has been able to struggle on under the habits of\nintemperance, there are thousands who have perished in the experiment,\nand some among the most powerful minds that the world ever produced. On\nthe other hand, we shall find, by looking over the biography of the\ngreat men of every age, that those who have possessed the clearest and\nmost powerful minds, neither drank spirits nor indulged in the pleasures\nof the table. Sir Isaac Newton, John Locke, Dr. Franklin, John Wesley,\nSir William Jones, John Fletcher, and President Edwards, furnish a\nstriking illustration of this truth. One of the secrets by which these\nmen produced such astonishing results, were enabled to perform so much\nintellectual labor, and of so high a grade, and to arrive at old age in\nthe enjoyment of health, was a rigid course of abstinence. But I hasten\nto consider more particularly,\n\n\nIII. Its effects on THE PHYSICAL POWERS. In view of this part of the\nsubject, the attention of the critical observer is arrested by a series\nof circumstances, alike disgusting and melancholy.\n\n1. The _odor of the breath_ of the drunkard furnishes the earliest\nindication by which the habitual use of ardent spirit becomes known.\nThis is occasioned by the exhalation of the alcoholic principle from the\nbronchial vessels and air-cells of the lungs--not of pure spirit, as\ntaken into the stomach, but of spirit which has been absorbed, has\nmingled with the blood, and has been subjected to the action of the\ndifferent organs of the body; and not containing any principle which\ncontributes to the nourishment or renovation of the system, is cast out\nwith the other excretions, as poisonous and hurtful. This peculiar odor\ndoes not arise from the accidental or occasional use of spirit; it marks\nonly the habitual dram-drinker--the one who indulges daily in his\npotation; and although its density varies in some degree with the kind\nof spirit consumed, the habits and constitution of the individual, yet\nit bears generally a close relation to the degree of intemperance.\n\nThese observations are confirmed by some experiments made on living\nanimals by the celebrated French physiologist, Magendie. He ascertained\nthat diluted alcohol, a solution of camphor, and some other odorous\nsubstances, when subjected to the absorbing power of the veins, are\ntaken up by them, and after mingling with the blood, pass off by the\npulmonary exhalants. Even phosphorus injected into the crural vein of a\ndog, he found to pass off in a few moments from the nostrils of the\nanimal in a dense white vapor, which he ascertained to be phosphoric\nacid. Cases have occurred, in which the breath of the drunkard has\nbecome so highly charged with alcohol as to render it actually\ninflammable by the touch of a taper. One individual in particular is\nmentioned, who often amused his comrades by passing his breath through a\nsmall tube, and setting it on fire as it issued from it. It appears,\nalso, that this has been the source of that combustion of the body of\nthe drunkard which has been denominated spontaneous, many\nwell-authenticated cases of which are on record.\n\n2. The perspirable matter which passes off from the skin becomes charged\nwith the odor of alcohol in the drunkard, and is so far changed, in some\ncases, as to furnish evidence of the kind of spirit drank. \"I have met\nwith two instances,\" says Dr. McNish, \"the one in a claret, and the\nother in a port drinker; in which the moisture that exhaled from their\nbodies had a ruddy complexion, similar to the wine on which they had\ncommitted their debauch.\"\n\n3. The _whole system_ soon bears marks of debility and decay. The\nvoluntary muscles lose their power, and cease to act under the control\nof the will; and hence, all the movements become awkward, exhibiting the\nappearance of stiffness in the joints. The positions of the body, also,\nare tottering and infirm, and the step loses its elasticity and vigor.\nThe muscles, and especially those of the face and lips, are often\naffected with a convulsive twitching, which produces the involuntary\nwinking of the eye, and quivering of the lip, so characteristic of the\nintemperate. Indeed, all the motions seem unnatural and forced, as if\nrestrained by some power within. The extremities are at length seized\nwith a tremor, which is more strongly marked after recovery from a fit\nof intoxication. The lips lose their significant expression, and become\nsensual; the complexion assumes a sickly, leaden hue, or is changed to\nan unhealthy, fiery redness, and is covered with red streaks and\nblotches. The eye becomes watery, tender, and inflamed, and loses its\nintelligence and its fire. These symptoms, together with a certain\noedematous appearance about the eye, bloating of the whole body, with\na dry, feverish skin, seldom fail to mark the habitual dram-drinker; and\nthey go on increasing and increasing, till the intelligence and dignity\nof the man is lost in the tameness and sensuality of the brute.\n\nBut these effects, which are external and obvious, are only the \"signals\nwhich nature holds out, and waves in token of internal distress;\" for\nall the time the inebriate has been pouring down his daily draught and\nmaking merry over the cup, morbid changes have been going on within; and\nthough these are unseen, and, it may be, unsuspected, they are fatal,\nirretrievable. A few of the most important of these changes I shall now\ndescribe.\n\n4. The _stomach_ and its functions. This is the great organ of\ndigestion. It is the chief instrument by which food is prepared to\nnourish, sustain, and renovate the different tissues of the body, to\ncarry on the various functions, and to supply the waste which\ncontinually takes place in the system. It is not strange, therefore,\nthat the habitual application to the organ of any agent, calculated to\nderange its functions, or change its organization, should be followed by\nsymptoms so various and extensive, and by consequences so fatal. The use\nof ardent spirit produces both these effects; it deranges the functions\nof the stomach, and if persisted in, seldom fails to change its organic\nstructure.\n\nThe inebriate first loses his appetite, and becomes thirsty and\nfeverish; he vomits in the morning, and is affected with spasmodic pains\nin the region of the stomach. He is often seized with permanent\ndyspepsia, and either wastes away by degrees, or dies suddenly of a fit\nof cramp in the stomach.\n\nOn examining the stomach after death, it is generally found irritated,\nand approaching a state of inflammation, with its vessels enlarged, and\nfilled with black blood; and particularly those of the mucous coat,\nwhich gives to the internal surface of the stomach the appearance of\npurple or reddish streaks, resembling the livid patches seen on the face\nof the drunkard.\n\nThe coats of the stomach become greatly thickened and corrugated, and so\nfirmly united as to form one inseparable mass. In this state, the walls\nof the organ are sometimes increased in thickness to the extent of ten\nor twelve lines, and are sometimes found also in a scirrhous or\ncancerous condition.\n\nThe following case occurred in my practice several years since. A\nmiddle-aged gentleman, of wealth and standing, had long been accustomed\nto mingle in the convivial circle, and though by no means a drunkard,\nhad indulged at times in the use of his old cogniac, with an unsparing\nhand. He was at length seized with pain in the region of the stomach,\nand a vomiting of his food an hour or two after eating. In about\neighteen months he died in a state of extreme emaciation.\n\nOn opening the body after death, the walls of the whole of the right\nextremity of the stomach were found in a scirrhous and cancerous\ncondition, and thickened to the extent of about two inches. The cavity\nof the organ was so far obliterated as scarcely to admit the passage of\na probe from the left to the right extremity, and the opening which\nremained was so unequal and irregular as to render it evident that but\nlittle of the nourishment he had received could have passed the lower\norifice of the stomach for many months.\n\nI have never dissected the stomach of a drunkard, in which the organ did\nnot manifest some remarkable deviation from its healthy condition. But\nthe derangement of the stomach is not limited to the function of\nnutrition merely. This organ is closely united to every other organ, and\nto each individual tissue of the body, by its sympathetic relations.\nWhen the stomach, therefore, becomes diseased, other parts suffer with\nit. The functions of the brain, the heart, the lungs, and the liver,\nbecome disordered; the secretions are altered, and all the operations of\nthe animal economy are more or less affected.\n\n5. The _liver_ and its functions. Alcohol, in every form and proportion,\nhas long been known to exert a strong and speedy influence on this\norgan, when used internally. Aware of this fact, the poultry-dealers of\nEngland are in the habit of mixing a quantity of spirit with the food of\ntheir fowls, in order to increase the size of the liver; so that they\nmay be enabled to supply to the epicure a greater abundance of that part\nof the animal, which he regards as the most delicious.\n\nThe influence of spirit on the liver is exerted in two ways: first, the\nimpression made upon the mucous coat of the stomach is extended to the\nliver by sympathy; the second mode of action is through the medium of\nthe circulation, and by the immediate action of the alcoholic principle\non the liver itself, as it passes through the organ, mingling with the\nblood. In whichsoever of these ways it operates, its first effect is to\nincrease the action of the liver, and sometimes to such a degree as to\nproduce inflammation. Its secretion becomes changed from a bright yellow\nto a green or black, and from a thin fluid to a substance resembling tar\nin its consistence. There soon follows also an enlargement of the\nliver, and a change in its organic structure. I have met with several\ncases in which the liver has become enlarged from intemperance, so as to\noccupy a greater part of the cavity of the abdomen, and weighing from\neight to twelve pounds, when it should have weighed not more than four\nor five.\n\nThe liver sometimes, however, even when it manifests great morbid change\nin its organic structure, is rather diminished than increased in its\nvolume. This was the case in the person of the celebrated stage-actor,\nGeorge Frederick Cook, who died a few years since in the city of New\nYork. This extraordinary man was long distinguished for the profligacy\nof his life, as well as for the native vigor of his mind and body. At\nthe time of his death, the body was opened by Dr. Hosack, who found that\nthe liver did not exceed its usual dimensions, but was astonishingly\nhard, of a lighter color than natural, and that its texture was so dense\nas to make considerable resistance to the knife. The blood-vessels,\nwhich, in a healthy condition, are extremely numerous and large, were in\nthis case nearly obliterated, evincing that the regular circulation\nthrough the liver had long since ceased; and tubercles were found\nthroughout the whole substance of the organ.\n\nI have met with several cases in the course of my dissections, in which\nthe liver was found smaller than natural, shrivelled, indurated, its\nblood-vessels diminished in size and number, with the whole of its\ninternal structure more or less changed. In consequence of these morbid\nchanges in the liver, other organs become affected, as the spleen, the\npancreas, etc., either by sympathy or in consequence of their dependence\non the healthy functions of the liver for the due performance of their\nown.\n\n6. Of _the brain_ and its functions. Inflammation and engorgement of\nthis organ are frequent consequences of intemperance, and may take place\nduring a debauch--or may arise some time after, during the stage of\ndebility, from a loss of the healthy balance of action between the\ndifferent parts of the system. This inflammation is sometimes acute, is\nmarked by furious delirium, and terminates fatally in the course of a\nfew days, and sometimes a few hours. At other times it assumes a chronic\nform, continues much longer, and then frequently results in an effusion\nof serum, or an extravasation of blood, and the patient dies in a state\nof insensibility, with all the symptoms of compressed brain. Sometimes\nthe system becomes so saturated with ardent spirit, that there is good\nreason to believe the effusions, which take place in the cavities of the\nbrain, and elsewhere, are composed, in part at least, of the alcoholic\nprinciple. The following case occurred, not long since, in England, and\nis attested by unquestionable authority.\n\nA man was taken up dead in the streets of London, soon after having\ndrank a quart of gin, on a wager. He was carried to the Westminster\nHospital, and there dissected. \"In the ventricles of the brain was found\na considerable quantity of limpid fluid, distinctly impregnated with\ngin, both to the sense of smell and taste, and even to the test of\ninflammability. The liquid appeared to the senses of the examining\nstudents, as strong as one-third gin, and two-thirds water.\"\n\nDr. Armstrong, who has enjoyed very ample opportunity of investigating\nthis subject, speaks of the chronic inflammation of the brain and its\nmembranes, as frequently proceeding from the free use of strong liquors.\n\nIt is a fact familiar to every anatomist, that alcohol, even when\ngreatly diluted, has, by its action on the brain after death, the effect\nof hardening it, as well as most of the tissues of the body which\ncontain albumen; and it is common to immerse the brain in ardent spirit\nfor a few days, in order to render it the firmer for dissection.\n\nOn examining the brain after death of such as have long been accustomed\nto the free use of ardent spirit, it is said the organ is generally\nfound harder than in temperate persons. It has no longer that delicate\nand elastic texture. Its arteries become diminished in size, and lose\ntheir transparency, while the veins and sinuses are greatly distended\nand irregularly enlarged.\n\nThis statement is confirmed by my own dissections, and they seem also to\nbe in full accordance with all the intellectual and physical phenomena\ndisplayed in the drunkard, while living.\n\n7. The _heart_ and its functions. It has generally been supposed, that\nthe heart is less frequently affected by intemperance, than most of the\nother great vital organs; but, from the history of the cases which have\ncome under my own observation, I am convinced that it seldom escapes\ndisease under the habitual use of ardent spirit. And why should it,\nsince it is thrown almost perpetually into a state of unnatural\nexertion, the very effect produced by the violent agitation of the\npassions, the influence of which upon this organ is found so injurious?\n\nThe following case came under my notice, a few winters since. A large\nathletic man, long accustomed to the use of ardent spirit, on drinking a\nglass of raw whiskey, dropped instantly dead. On carefully dissecting\nthe body, no adequate cause of the sudden cessation of life could be\nfound in any part, except the heart. This organ was free from blood, was\nhard and firmly contracted, as if affected by spasms. I am convinced\nthat many of those cases of sudden death which take place with\nintemperate persons, are the result of a spasmodic action of the heart,\nfrom sympathy with the stomach, or some other part of the system. The\nuse of ardent spirit, no doubt, promotes also the ossification of the\nvalves of the heart, as well as the development of other organic\naffections.\n\n8. _The lungs_ and their functions. Respiration in the inebriate is\ngenerally oppressed and laborious, and especially after eating or\nviolent exercise; and he is teased with a cough, attended with copious\nexpectoration, and especially after his recovery from a fit of\nintoxication; and these symptoms go on increasing, and unless arrested\nin their progress, terminate in consumption.\n\nThis affection of the lungs is produced in two ways: first, by the\nimmediate action of the alcoholic principle upon the highly sensible\nmembrane which lines the trachea, bronchial vessels, and air-cells of\nthe lungs, as poured out by the exhalants; and second, by the sympathy\nwhich is called into action between the lungs and other organs already\nin a state of disease, and more especially that of the stomach and\nliver.\n\nI have met with many cases in the course of my practice, of cough and\ndifficult breathing, which could be relieved only by regulating the\nfunctions of the stomach, and which soon yielded, on the patient ceasing\nto irritate this organ with ardent spirit. I have found the liver still\nmore frequently the source of this affection; and on restoring the organ\nto its healthy condition, by laying aside the use of ardent spirit, all\nthe pulmonary symptoms have subsided.\n\nOn examining the lungs of the drunkard after death, they are frequently\nfound adhering to the walls of the chest; hepatized, or affected with\ntubercles.\n\nBut time would fail me, were I to attempt an account of half the\npathology of drunkenness. _Dyspepsia_, _Jaundice_, _Emaciation_,\n_Corpulence_, _Dropsy_, _Ulcers_, _Rheumatism_, _Gout_, _Tremors_,\n_Palpitation_, _Hysteria_, _Epilepsy_, _Palsy_, _Lethargy_, _Apoplexy_,\n_Melancholy_, _Madness_, _Delirium-tremens_, _and premature old age_,\ncompose but a small part of the catalogue of diseases produced by ardent\nspirit. Indeed, there is scarcely a morbid affection to which the human\nbody is liable, that has not, in one way or another, been produced by\nit; there is not a disease but it has aggravated, nor a predisposition\nto disease, which it has not called into action; and although its\neffects are in some degree modified by age and temperament, by habit and\noccupation, by climate and season of the year, and even by the\nintoxicating agent itself; yet, the general and ultimate consequences\nare the same.\n\nBut I pass on to notice one state of the system, produced by ardent\nspirit, too important and interesting to leave unexamined. It is that\n_predisposition to disease and death_ which so strongly characterizes\nthe drunkard in every situation of life.\n\nIt is unquestionably true, that many of the surrounding objects in\nnature are constantly tending to man's destruction. The excess of heat\nand cold, humidity and dryness, noxious exhalations from the earth, the\nfloating atoms in the atmosphere, the poisonous vapors from decomposed\nanimal and vegetable matter, with many other invisible agents, are\nexerting their deadly influence; and were it not that every part of his\nsystem is endowed with a self-preserving power, a principle of\nexcitability, or, in other words, a vital principle, the operations of\nthe economy would cease, and a dissolution of his organic structure take\nplace. But this principle being implanted in the system, reaction takes\nplace, and thereby a vigorous contest is maintained with the warring\nelements without, as well as with the principle of decay within.\n\nIt is thus that man is enabled to endure, from year to year, the toils\nand fatigues of life, the variations of heat and cold, and the\nvicissitudes of the seasons--that he is enabled to traverse every region\nof the globe, and to live with almost equal ease under the equator and\nin the frozen regions of the north. It is by this power that all his\nfunctions are performed, from the commencement to the close of life.\n\nThe principle of excitability exists in the highest degree in the\ninfant, and diminishes at every succeeding period of life; and if man is\nnot cut down by disease or violence, he struggles on, and finally dies\na natural death--a death occasioned by the exhaustion of the principle\nof excitability. In order to prevent the too rapid exhaustion of this\nprinciple, nature has especially provided for its restoration by\nestablishing a period of sleep. After being awake for sixteen or\neighteen hours, a sensation of fatigue ensues, and all the functions are\nperformed with diminished precision and energy. Locomotion becomes\nfeeble and tottering, the voice harsh, the intellect obtuse and\npowerless, and all the senses blunted. In this state the individual\nanxiously retires from the light, and from the noise and bustle of\nbusiness, seeks that position which requires the least effort to sustain\nit, and abandons himself to rest. The will ceases to act, and he loses\nin succession all the senses; the muscles unbend themselves, and permit\nthe limbs to fall into the most easy and natural position; digestion,\nrespiration, circulation, secretion, and the other functions, go on with\ndiminished power and activity; and consequently the wasted excitability\nis gradually restored. After a repose of six of eight hours, this\nprinciple becomes accumulated to its full measure, and the individual\nawakes and finds his system invigorated and refreshed. His muscular\npower is augmented, his senses are acute and discriminating, his\nintellect active and eager for labor, and all his functions move on with\nrenewed energy. But if the stomach be oppressed by food, or the system\nexcited by stimulating drinks, the sleep, though it may be profound, is\nnever tranquil and refreshing.\n\nThe system being raised to a state of feverish excitement, and its\nhealthy balance disturbed, its exhausted excitability is not restored.\nThe individual awakes, but finds himself fatigued rather than\ninvigorated. His muscles are relaxed, his senses obtuse, his intellect\nimpaired, and his whole system disordered; and it is not till he is\nagain under the influence of food and stimulus that he is fit for the\noccupations of life. And thus he loses the benefits of this wise\nprovision of repose, designed for his own preservation.\n\nNothing, probably, tends more powerfully to produce premature old age,\nthan disturbed and unrefreshing sleep.\n\nIt is also true, that artificial stimulus, in whatever way applied,\ntends constantly to exhaust the principle of excitability of the system,\nand this in proportion to its intensity, and the freedom with which it\nis applied.\n\nBut there is still another principle on which the use of ardent spirit\npredisposes the drunkard to disease and death. It acts on the blood,\nimpairs its vitality, deprives it of its red color, and thereby renders\nit unfit to stimulate the heart and other organs through which it\ncirculates; unfit, also, to supply the materials for the different\nsecretions, and to renovate the different tissues of the body, as well\nas to sustain the energy of the brain--offices which it can perform only\nwhile it retains the vermilion color, and other arterial properties. The\nblood of the drunkard is several shades darker in its color than that of\ntemperate persons, and also coagulates less readily and firmly, and is\nloaded with serum; appearances which indicate that it has exchanged its\narterial properties for those of the venous blood. This is the cause of\nthe livid complexion of the inebriate, which so strongly marks him in\nthe advanced stage of intemperance. Hence, too, all the functions of his\nbody are sluggish, irregular, and the whole system loses its tone and\nits energy. If ardent spirit, when taken into the system, exhausts the\nvital principle of the solids, it destroys the vital principle of the\nblood also; and if taken in large quantities, produces sudden death; in\nwhich case the blood, as in death produced by lightning, by opium, or by\nviolent and long continued exertion, does not coagulate.\n\nThe principles laid down are plain, and of easy application to the case\nbefore us.\n\nThe inebriate having, by the habitual use of ardent spirit, exhausted to\na greater or lesser extent the principle of excitability in the\nsolids--the power of reaction--and the blood having become incapable of\nperforming its offices also, he is alike predisposed to every disease,\nand rendered liable to the inroads of every invading foe. So far,\ntherefore, from protecting the system against disease, intemperance ever\nconstitutes one of its strongest predisposing causes.\n\nSuperadded to this, whenever disease does lay its grasp upon the\ndrunkard, the powers of life being already enfeebled by the stimulus of\nardent spirit, he unexpectedly sinks in the contest, and but too\nfrequently to the mortification of his physician, and the surprise and\ngrief of his friends. Indeed, inebriation so enfeebles the powers of\nlife, so modifies the character of disease, and so changes the operation\nof medical agents, that unless the young physician has studied\nthoroughly the constitution of the drunkard, he has but partially\nlearned his profession, and is not fit for a practitioner of the present\nage.\n\nThese are the true reasons why the drunkard dies so easily, and from\nsuch slight causes.\n\nA sudden cold, a pleurisy, a fever, a fractured limb, or a slight wound\nof the skin, is often more than his shattered powers can endure. Even a\nlittle excess of exertion, an exposure to heat or cold, a hearty repast,\nor a glass of cold water, not unfrequently extinguishes the small\nremains of the vital principle.\n\nIn the season that has just closed upon us, we have had a melancholy\nexhibition of the effects of intemperance in the tragical death of some\ndozens of our fellow-citizens; and had the extreme heat which prevailed\nfor several days continued for as many weeks, we should hardly have had\na confirmed drunkard left among us.\n\nMany of those deaths which came under my notice seemed almost\nspontaneous, and some of them took place in less than one hour from the\nfirst symptoms of indisposition. Some died apparently from a slight\nexcess of fatigue, some from a few hours' exposure to the sun, and some\nfrom a small draught of cold water; causes quite inadequate to the\nproduction of such effects in temperate persons.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus, fellow-citizens, I have endeavored to delineate the effects of\nardent spirit upon man, and more especially to portray its influence on\nhis moral, intellectual, and physical powers. And now let me mention a\nfew things which MUST BE DONE in order that the evil may be eradicated.\n\n1. Let us keep in view the objects of the Temperance Society, and the\nobligation imposed on us, _to use all proper measures to discourage the\nuse of ardent spirit in the social circle, at public meetings, on the\nfarm, in the mechanic shop, and in all other places_. It is not a mere\nmatter of formality that we have put our names to this society's\nconstitution; we have pledged ourselves to be bold, active, and\npersevering in the cause; to proclaim the dangers of intemperance to our\nfellow-citizens, and to do what we can to arrest its progress.\n\nIn view of these objects and of this pledge, then, let us, if indeed we\nhave not already done it, banish ardent spirit from our houses at once,\nand for ever; and then we can act with decision and energy, and speak in\na tone of authority, and our voice will be heard, if precept be\nsanctioned by example.\n\n2. Let us use our utmost endeavors to lessen the number, and, if\npossible, utterly exterminate from among us those establishments which\nare the chief agents in propagating the evils of intemperance. I refer\nto those shops which are licensed for _retailing ardent spirit_. Here is\nthe source of the evil. These are the agents that are sowing among us\nthe seeds of vice, and poverty, and wretchedness.\n\nHow preposterous, that an enlightened community, professing the highest\nregard for morality and religion, making laws for the suppression and\npunishment of vice, and the promotion of virtue and good order,\ninstituting societies to encourage industry, enlighten the ignorant,\nreclaim the vicious, bring back the wanderer, protect the orphan, feed\nthe hungry, clothe the naked, bind up the broken-hearted, and restore\ndomestic peace, should, at the same time, create and foster those very\nmeans that carry idleness, and ignorance, and vice, and nakedness, and\nstarvation, and discord into all ranks of society; that make widows and\norphans, that sow the seeds of disease and death among us; that strike,\nindeed, at the foundation of all that is good and great.\n\nYou create paupers, and lodge them in your alms house--orphans, and give\nthem a residence in your asylum--convicts, and send them to the\npenitentiary. You seduce men to crime, and then arraign them at the bar\nof justice--immure them in prison. With one hand you thrust the dagger\nto the heart--with the other attempt to assuage the pain it causes.\n\nWe all remember to have heard, from the lips of our parents, the\nnarration of the fact, that in the early history of our country, the\ntomahawk and scalping-knife were put into the hands of our savage\nneighbors, by our enemies at war, and that a bounty was awarded for the\ndepredations they committed on the lives of our defenceless\nfellow-citizens. Our feelings were shocked at the recital, and a\nprejudice was created, as well to these poor wandering savages, as to\nthe nation that prompted them to the work, which neither time nor\neducation has eradicated. Yet, as merciless and savage as this practice\nmay appear to us, it was Christian, it was humane, compared with ours:\ntheirs sought only the life-blood, and that of their enemies; ours seeks\nthe blood of souls, and that of our own citizens, and friends, and\nneighbors. Their avarice was satiated with a few inches of the scalp,\nand the death inflicted was often a sudden and easy one; ours produces a\ndeath that lingers: and not content with the lives of our\nfellow-citizens, it rifles their pockets. It revels in rapine and\nrobbery; it sacks whole towns and villages; it lays waste fields and\nvineyards; it riots on domestic peace, and virtue, and happiness; it\nsets at variance the husband and the wife; it causes the parent to\nforsake the child, and the child to curse the parent; it tears asunder\nthe strongest bonds of society; it severs the tenderest ties of nature.\n\nAnd who is the author of all this; and where lies the responsibility? I\nappeal to my fellow-citizens.\n\nAre not we the authors? Does not the responsibility rest upon us? Is it\nnot so?\n\nThe power emanates from us; we delegate it to the constituted\nauthorities, and we say to them, \"Go on; cast firebrands, arrows, and\ndeath; and let the blood of those that perish be on us and on our\nchildren.\" We put the tomahawk and scalping-knife into the hands of our\nneighbors, and award to them a bounty. We do more; we share the plunder.\nLet us arouse, my fellow-citizens, from our insensibility, and redeem\nour character for consistency, humanity, and benevolence.\n\n3. Let us not confine our views or limit our operations to the narrow\nboundaries of our own city or district. Intemperance is a common enemy.\nIt exists everywhere, and everywhere is pursuing its victims to\ndestruction: while, therefore, we are actively engaged upon the subject\nin our own city, let us endeavor to do something elsewhere; and much may\nbe done by spreading through our country correct information on the\nsubject of intemperance. To this end, every newspaper and every press\nshould be put in requisition. Circulate through the various avenues\nsuitable tracts, essays, and other documents, setting forth the causes\nof intemperance, its evils, and its remedy, together with an account of\nthe cheering progress now making to eradicate it.\n\nDo this, and you will find thousands starting up in different parts of\nthe country, to lend their influence, and give their money in support of\nyour cause; individuals who have hitherto been unconscious of the extent\nand magnitude of the evil of intemperance. You will find some who have\nbeen slumbering upon the very precipice of ruin, rallying round your\nstandard. Indeed, we have all been insensible, till the voice of alarm\nwas sounded, and the facts were set in array before us.\n\n4. Appeal to _the medical profession_ of the country, and ask them to\ncorrect the false idea which so extensively, I may say, almost\nuniversally prevails, viz., that ardent spirit is sometimes necessary in\nthe treatment of disease. This opinion has slain its thousands and its\ntens of thousands, and multitudes of dram-drinkers daily shelter\nthemselves under its delusive mask. One takes a little to raise his\ndesponding spirits, or to drown his sorrow; another, to sharpen his\nappetite, or relieve his dyspepsia: one, to ease his gouty pains;\nanother, to supple his stiffened limbs, or calm his quivering muscles.\nOne drinks to overcome the heat; another, to ward off the cold; and all\nthis as a medicine. Appeal, then, to the medical profession, and they\nwill tell you--every independent, honest, sober, intelligent member of\nit will tell you--that there is no case in which ardent spirit is\nindispensable, and for which there is not an adequate substitute. And it\nis time the profession should have an opportunity to exonerate itself\nfrom the charge under which it has long rested, _of making drunkards_.\nBut I entreat my professional brethren not to be content with giving a\nmere assent to this truth. You hold a station in society which gives you\na commanding influence on this subject; and if you will but raise your\nvoice and speak out boldly, you may exert an agency in this matter\nwhich will bring down the blessings of unborn millions upon your\nmemory.\n\n5. Much may be done by guarding the _rising generation_ from the\ncontagion of intemperance. It is especially with the children and youth\nof our land, that we may expect our efforts to be permanently useful.\nLet us, then, guard with peculiar vigilance the youthful mind, and with\nall suitable measures, impress it with such sentiments of disgust and\nhorror of the vice of intemperance, as to cause it to shrink from its\nvery approach. Carry the subject into our infant and Sunday schools, and\ncall on the managers and teachers of those institutions to aid you, by\nthe circulation of suitable tracts, and by such other instructions as\nmay be deemed proper. Let the rising generation be protected but for a\nfew years, and the present race of drunkards will have disappeared from\namong us, and there will be no new recruits to take their place.\n\n6. Let intelligent and efficient agents be sent out into every portion\nof our country, to spread abroad information upon the subject of\nintemperance, to rouse up the people to a sense of their danger, and to\nform temperance societies; and let there be such a system of\ncorrespondence and cooperation established among these associations as\nwill convey information to each, and impart energy and efficiency to the\nwhole. \"No great melioration of the human condition was ever achieved\nwithout the concurrent effort of numbers; and no extended and\nwell-directed association of moral influence was ever made in vain.\"\n\n7. Let all who regard the virtue, the honor, and the patriotism of their\ncountry, withhold their suffrages from those candidates for office who\noffer ardent spirit as a bribe to secure their elevation to power. It is\nderogatory to the liberties of our country, that office can be obtained\nby such corruption--be held by such a tenure.\n\n8. Let the ministers of the Gospel, wherever called to labor, exert\ntheir influence, by precept and example, in promoting the cause of\ntemperance. Many of them have already stepped forth, and with a noble\nboldness have proclaimed the alarm, and have led on the work of\nreformation; but many timid spirits still linger, and others seem not\ndeeply impressed with the importance of the subject, and with the\nresponsibility of their station. Ye venerated men, you are not only\ncalled to stand forth as our moral beacons, and be unto us burning and\nshining lights, but you are placed as watchmen upon our walls, to\nannounce to us the approach of danger. It is mainly through your example\nand your labors that religion and virtue are so extensively disseminated\nthrough our country--that this land is not now a moral waste. You have\never exerted an important influence in society, and have held a high\nplace in the confidence and affections of the people. You are widely\nspread over the country, and the scene of your personal labors will\nfurnish you with frequent opportunities to diffuse information upon the\nsubject of temperance, and to advance its progress. Let me then ask you,\none and all, to grant us your active and hearty cooperation.\n\n9. Appeal to the _female sex_ of our country, and ask them to come to\nyour assistance; and if they will consent to steel their hearts against\nthe inebriate, to shut out from their society the man who visits the\ntippling shop, their influence will be omnipotent. And by what power, ye\nmothers, and wives, and daughters, shall I invoke your aid? Shall I\ncarry you to the house of the drunkard, and point you to his weeping and\nbroken-hearted wife, his suffering and degraded children, robed in rags,\nand poverty, and vice? Shall I go with you to the almshouse, the orphan\nasylum, and to the retreat for the insane, that your sensibility may be\nroused? Shall I ask you to accompany me to the penitentiary and the\nprison, that you may there behold the end of intemperance? Nay, shall I\ndraw back the curtain and disclose to you the scene of the drunkard's\ndeath-bed? No--I will not demand of you a task so painful: rather let me\nremind you that you are to become the mothers of our future heroes and\nstatesmen, philosophers and divines, lawyers and physicians; and shall\nthey be enfeebled in body, debauched in morals, disordered in intellect,\nor healthy, pure, and full of mental energy? It is for you to decide\nthis question. You have the future destiny of our beloved country in\nyour hands. Let me entreat you, then, for your children's sake, and for\nyour country's sake, not to ally yourselves to the drunkard, nor to put\nthe cup to the mouth of your offspring, and thereby implant in them a\ncraving for ardent spirit, which, once produced, is seldom eradicated.\n\n10. Call upon all public and private associations, religious, literary,\nand scientific, to banish ardent spirit from their circle; call upon the\nagricultural, manufacturing, and commercial establishments, to withhold\nit from those engaged in their employment; call upon the legislatures of\nthe different states to cooperate by the enactment of such laws as will\ndiscourage the vending of ardent spirit, and render licenses to sell it\nunattainable; call upon the proper officers to banish from the army and\nnavy that article which, of all others, is most calculated to enfeeble\nthe physical energies, corrupt the morals, destroy the patriotism, and\ndamp the courage of our soldiers and sailors; call upon our national\nlegislature to impose such duties on the distillation and importation of\nardent spirit as will ultimately exclude it from the list of articles of\ncommerce, and eradicate it from our land.\n\nFinally, call upon every sober man, woman, and child, to raise their\nvoices, their hearts, and their hands in this sacred cause, and never\nhold their peace, never cease their prayers, never stay their exertions,\ntill intemperance shall be banished from our land and from the world.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLE ARGUMENT\nFOR\nTEMPERANCE.\n\nBY REV. AUSTIN DICKINSON.\n\n\nThe Bible requires us to \"present our bodies a living sacrifice, holy\nand acceptable unto God;\" to \"purify ourselves, even as he is pure;\" to\n\"give no occasion of stumbling to any brother;\" to \"give no offence to\nthe church of God;\" to \"love our neighbor as ourselves;\" to \"do good to\nall as we have opportunity;\" to \"abstain from all appearance of evil;\"\nto \"use the world as not abusing it;\" and, \"whether we eat or drink, or\nwhatsoever we do, to do all to the glory of God.\"\n\nA Being of infinite benevolence could not prescribe rules of action less\nholy, and they are \"the same that shall judge us in the last day.\" Any\nindulgence, therefore, not consistent with these rules, is rebellion\nagainst the great Lawgiver, and must disqualify us for \"standing in the\njudgment.\"\n\nAs honest men, then, let us try by these rules the common practice of\ndrinking or selling intoxicating liquor.\n\nThe use of such liquor, instead of enabling us to \"present our bodies a\nliving sacrifice, holy and acceptable,\" _actually degrades, and\nprematurely destroys both body and mind_. Dr. Rush, after enumerating\nvarious loathsome diseases, adds, that these are \"the usual, natural,\nand legitimate consequences of its use.\" Another eminent physician says,\n\"The observation of twenty years has convinced me, that were ten young\nmen, on their twenty-first birthday, to begin to drink one glass of\nardent spirit, and were they to drink this supposed moderate quantity\ndaily, the lives of eight out of the ten would be abridged by ten or\nfifteen years.\" When taken freely, its corrupting influences are\nstrikingly manifest. And even when taken moderately, very few now\npretend to doubt that it shortens life. But nothing can be clearer, than\nthat he who thus wilfully cuts short his probation five, ten, or twenty\nyears, is as truly a suicide, as if he slew himself violently. Or if he\nknowingly encourage his neighbor to do this, he is equally guilty. He\nis, by the law of God, \"a murderer.\"\n\nBut besides prematurely destroying the body, alcoholic drink injures the\nimmortal mind. To illustrate the blinding and perverting influence of\neven a small quantity of such liquor, let a strictly temperate man spend\nan evening with a dozen others indulging themselves \"moderately:\" they\nwill be sure to say things which to him will appear foolish, if not\nwicked; and which will appear so to _themselves_ on reflection; though\nat the time they may not be conscious of any impropriety. And if this\n\"moderate indulgence\" be habitual, there must, of course, be an\nincreased mental perversion; till conscience is \"seared as with a hot\niron,\" and the mind is lost to the power of being affected by truth, as\nwell as to the capacity for usefulness. And is this destruction of the\ntalents God has given, consistent with the injunction to \"glorify God in\nbody and spirit?\"\n\nAgain, the habit of drinking _is incompatible with that eminent holiness\nto which you are commanded to aspire_. The great Founder of Christianity\nenjoins, \"Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.\" This\nwill be the true Christian's desire. And a soul aspiring to the image\nand full enjoyment of God, will have no relish for any counteracting\ninfluence.\n\nIs it said, that for eminently holy men to \"mingle strong drink\" may be\ninconsistent; but not so for those less spiritual? This is making the\nwant of spirituality an excuse for sensuality; thus adding sin to sin,\nand only provoking the Most High. His mandate is universal: \"Be ye holy,\nfor I am holy.\"\n\nTo this end you are charged to \"abstain from fleshly lusts, which war\nagainst the soul;\" to \"mortify your members, which are earthly;\" to\n\"exercise yourselves rather unto godliness;\" to \"be kindly affectioned\ntowards all men.\" But who does not know that \"strong drink,\" not only\n\"eats out the brain,\" but \"taketh away the heart,\" diminishes \"natural\naffection,\" and deadens the moral sensibilities, while it cherishes\nthose very passions which the Holy Spirit condemns? And how can one\naspiring to the divine image, drink that which thus tends to destroy all\nthat is pure, spiritual, and lovely, while it kindles the very elements\nof hell?\n\nThe use of such liquor _is utterly inconsistent with any thing like high\nspiritual enjoyment, clear spiritual views, or true devotion_. A sense\nof shame must inevitably torment the professor who in such a day cannot\nresist those \"fleshly lusts which war against the soul;\" his brethren\nwill turn from him in pity or disgust; and, what is infinitely more\naffecting, the Holy Spirit will not abide with him. Thus, without an\napproving conscience, without cordial Christian intercourse, without the\nsmiles of the Comforter, how can he enjoy religion?\n\nAbstinence from highly stimulating liquor or food has ever been regarded\nindispensable to that serenity of soul and clearness of views so\ninfinitely desirable in matters of religion. Hence, the ministers of\nreligion especially, were commanded not to touch any thing like strong\ndrink when about to enter the sanctuary. Lev. 10:9. And _this_, it is\nadded, _shall be a statute for ever throughout your generations; that ye\nmay put difference between holy and unholy_; clearly showing God's\njudgment of the effect of temperance on spiritual discernment.\n\nOn the principle of abstinence we may account, in part, for that holy\necstasy, that amazing clearness of spiritual vision, sometimes enjoyed\non the deathbed. \"Administer nothing,\" said the eloquent dying\nSummerfield, \"that will create a stupor, not even so much as a little\nporter and water--_that I may have an unclouded view_.\" For the same\nreason, Dr. Rush, who so well knew the effect of strong drink,\nperemptorily ordered it not to be given him in his last hours. And it is\nrecorded, that the dying SAVIOUR, \"who knew all things,\" when offered\n\"wine mingled with myrrh,\" \"_received it not_.\" The truly wise will not\nbarter visions of glory for mere animal excitement and mental\nstupefaction.\n\nEqually illustrative of our principle is the confession of an aged\ndeacon, accustomed to drink moderately: \"I always, in prayer, felt a\ncoldness and heaviness at heart--_never suspecting it was the whiskey_!\nbut since that is given up, I have _heavenly communion_!\" O, what an\nincrease of pure light and joy might there be, would all understand\nthis, and be _temperate in all things_.\n\nThe use of such liquor _is inconsistent with the sacred order and\ndiscipline of the church_. A venerable minister, of great experience,\ngives it as the result of his observation, that _nine-tenths_ of all the\ncases calling for church discipline have in former years been occasioned\nby this liquor. This is a tremendous fact. But a little examination will\nconvince any one that the estimate is not too high. And can it be right\nto continue an indulgence that brings tenfold, or even fourfold more\ntrouble and disgrace on the church than all other causes united? Do not\nthese foul \"spots in your feasts of charity\" clearly say, \"Touch not the\nunclean thing?\" Can we countenance that which is certain to bring deep\nreproach on the church of Christ? \"It must needs be that offences come,\nbut woe to that man by whom the offence cometh.\"\n\nThe use of alcoholic liquor by the religious community _is inconsistent\nwith the hope of reforming and saving the intemperate_; and thus shows a\n_want of love to souls_. The Christian knows, that _drunkards cannot\ninherit eternal life_. He knows also, that hundreds of thousands now\nsustain or are contracting this odious character; and that if the evil\nbe not arrested, millions more will come on in the same track, and go\ndown to the burning gulf. But the man who drinks just so much as to make\nhimself \"feel well,\" cannot reprove the drunkard who only does the same\nthing. The drunkard may say to him, \"My appetite is stronger than yours;\nmore, therefore, is necessary, in order to make me '_feel well_;' and if\nyou cannot deny yourself, how can I control a more raging appetite?\"\nThis rebuke would be unanswerable.\n\nAll agree that total abstinence is the only hope of the drunkard. But is\nit not preposterous to expect him to abstain, if he sees the minister,\nthe elder, the deacon, and other respectable men indulging their cups?\nWith mind enfeebled and character lost, can he summon resolution to be\nsingular, and live more temperately than his acknowledged\nsuperiors?--thus telling to all that _he has been a drunkard_! This\ncannot be expected of poor sunken human nature. No; let moderate\ndrinking be generally allowed, and in less than thirty years, according\nto the past ratio of their deaths, armies of drunkards greater than all\nthe American churches, will go from this land of light and freedom to\n\"everlasting chains of darkness.\" If, then, the drunkard is worth\nsaving, if he has a soul capable of shining with seraphim, and if you\nhave \"any bowels of mercies,\" then give him the benefit of your example.\nProfessing to \"do good to _all_ as you have opportunity,\" be consistent\nin this matter. By a little self-denial you may save multitudes from\nruin. But if you cannot yield _a little_, to save fellow-sinners from\neternal pain, have you the spirit of Him who, for his enemies, exchanged\na throne for a cross?\n\nCould all the wailings of the thousand thousands slain by this poison\ncome up in one loud thunder of remonstrance on your ear, you might then\nthink it wrong to sanction its use. But \"let God be true,\" and those\nwailings are as real as if heard in ceaseless thunders.\n\nAgain, the use of intoxicating drink _is inconsistent with true\nChristian patriotism_. All former efforts to arrest the national sin of\nintemperance have failed. A glorious effort is now making to remove it\nwith pure water. Thousands are rejoicing in the remedy. Not a sober man\nin the nation really doubts its efficacy and importance. Who, then,\nthat regards our national character, can hesitate to adopt it?\nEspecially, who that is a Christian, can cling to that which has\ndarkened the pathway of heaven, threatened our liberties, desolated\nfamilies and neighborhoods, and stigmatized us as a \"nation of\ndrunkards?\"\n\nIs it said, that the influence of a small temperance society, or church,\nis unimportant? Not so; its light may save the surrounding region; its\nexample may influence a thousand churches. And let the thousand thousand\nprofessing Christians in this land, with such others as they can enlist,\nresolve on TOTAL ABSTINENCE--let this great example be held up to\nview--and it would be such a testimony as the world has not yet seen.\nLet such a multitude show, that these drinks are unnecessary, and\nreformation easy, and the demonstration would be complete. Few of the\nmoral would continue the poison; thousands of the immoral abandon it at\nonce; and the nation be reformed.\n\nThe use of this liquor is _inconsistent with the proper influence of\nChristian example_. The Saviour says, \"Let your light so shine before\nmen, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is\nin heaven.\" But will men esteem Christians the more for _drinking_, and\nthus be led to glorify God on their behalf? Or will the Saviour praise\nthem for this, \"when he shall come to be glorified in his saints, and to\nbe admired in all them that believe?\" Rather, will not their drinking\nlead some to excess, and thus sully the Creator's work? Nay, is it not\ncertain, that if the religious community indulge, the example will lead\n_millions_ to drunkenness and perdition? And, on the other hand, is it\nnot morally certain, that if they abstain, their combined influence will\nsave millions from infamy and ruin? How, then, in view of that day when\nall the bearings of your conduct shall be judged, can you hesitate on\nwhich side to give your influence? It is not a little matter; for who\ncan conceive the results of even _one_ impulse, among beings connected\nwith others by ten thousand strings!\n\nThe use of this liquor _is inconsistent with, that harmony and brotherly\nlove which Christ requires in his professed followers_. He requires\nthem to \"love one another with a pure heart, fervently;\" to \"be all of\none mind;\" to be \"of one heart and one soul.\" But who does not see the\nutter impossibility of this, if some continue an indulgence which others\nregard with abhorrence? Since public attention has been turned to the\nsubject, thousands have come to the full conviction, that to use\nintoxicating liquor is a sinful as well as foolish practice. The most\ndistinguished lights of the church, and such as peculiarly adorn human\nnature, embrace this sentiment. And how can you associate with these,\nand yet continue a habit viewed by them with disgust? Ah, the man,\nhowever decent, who \"will have his glass, _not caring_ whom he offends,\"\n_must have it_; but he must also \"_have his reward_.\" \"Whoso shall\n_offend one of these little ones which believe in me_, it were better\nfor him that a millstone were hanged about his neck.\"\n\nThe use of intoxicating drink, in this day of light, _is incompatible\nwith the hope of receiving any general effusion of the Holy Spirit_.\nChristians are allowed to hope for the Spirit to be poured out only in\nanswer to prayer--true, spiritual, believing prayer. \"If they regard\niniquity in their heart, the Lord will not hear them.\" If they wilfully\ncherish sin, they cannot have faith. Indeed, how odious the spectacle of\na company looking towards heaven, but in the posture of devotion\nbreathing forth the foul, fiery element--literally \"offering strange\nfire before the Lord!\"\n\nWe are not, then, to expect divine influence to come down \"like showers\nthat water the earth,\" till we put away that which we know tends only to\nwither and consume all the \"fruits of the Spirit.\"\n\nThe _waste of property_ in the use of alcoholic drink _is inconsistent\nwith faithful stewardship for Christ_. Religious \"contributions\" are\namong the appointed means for saving the world. But allow each of the\ntens of thousands of professing Christians in this land only three cents\nworth of such liquor daily, and the annual cost is some MILLIONS OF\nDOLLARS; which would be sufficient to support THOUSANDS OF MISSIONARIES.\nLet \"stewards\" of the Lord's bounty, then, who would consume their\nportion of this \"_little_\" on appetite, ponder and blush for such\ninconsistency; and let them hasten to clear off the heavy charge, \"_Ye\nhave robbed me, even this whole nation_.\"\n\nAgain, to indulge in intoxicating liquor _is inconsistent with attempts\nto recommend the Gospel to the heathen_. Nothing has done more, in\nformer years, to prejudice our Indian neighbors, and hinder among them\nthe influence of the Gospel, than those liquors we have encouraged them\nto use. Several tribes have set the noble example of excluding them by\nthe strong arm of law; and it is only by convincing such that really\nconsistent Christians do not encourage these evils, that our\nmissionaries have been able to gain their confidence.\n\nThe same feeling prevails in some distant heathen nations. They cannot\nbut distrust those who use and sell a polluting drink, which _they_, to\na great extent, regard with abhorrence.\n\nSuppose our missionaries should meet the heathen with the Bible in one\nhand, and the intoxicating cup in the other; what impression would they\nmake? Nature herself would revolt at the alliance. And nothing but\ncustom and fashion have reconciled any to similar inconsistencies at\nhome.\n\nBut not only must our missionaries be unspotted, they must be able to\ntestify, that _no real Christians_ encourage this or any unclean thing.\nWith _such_ testimony they might secure the conviction, that our\nreligion is indeed elevating, and that our God is _the true God_. For\nsaith Jehovah, \"Then shall the _heathen_ know that I am the Lord, when I\nshall be sanctified in you before their eyes.\"\n\nIndulgence in this drink, especially by the church, _is inconsistent\nwith any reasonable hope that the flood of intemperance would not return\nupon the land, even should it for a season be dried up_. The same causes\nwhich have produced it would produce it again, unless there be some\n_permanent_ counteracting influence. Temperance associations are\nunspeakably important as means of reformation. But they are not\npermanent bodies; their organization may cease when intemperance is once\ndone away; and unless the principle of TOTAL ABSTINENCE be generally\nacknowledged and regarded as a Christian duty, by some great association\nthat _is to be perpetual_, it may in time be forgotten or despised; and\nthen drunkenness will again abound. Such an association is found only in\n\"the church of the living God.\" This will continue while the world\nstands. Let the principle of ENTIRE ABSTINENCE, then, be recognized by\nall members of the church, and such others as they can influence; and\nyou have a great multitude to sustain the temperance cause, \"till time\nshall be no longer.\" And can the real Christian, or patriot, think it\nhard thus to enlist for the safety of all future generations? If parents\nlove their offspring, if Christians love the millions coming upon the\nstage, will they not gladly secure them all from the destroyer? Has he a\nshadow of consistency who will rather do that, which, if done by the\nchurch generally, would lead millions to hopeless ruin?\n\nThe use of intoxicating drink, as an article of luxury or living, _is\ninconsistent with the plain spirit and precepts of God's word_. The\nproper use to be made of it, is so distinctly pointed out in Scripture,\nthat men need not mistake. It is to be used as a _medicine_ in _extreme\ncases_. \"Give strong drink unto him that is _ready to perish_.\" Its\ncommon use is condemned as foolish and pernicious. \"Strong drink is\nraging; and whosoever is deceived thereby, is _not wise_.\" \"They are out\nof the way through strong drink; they err in vision; they stumble in\njudgment.\" Such passages show clearly the mind of God with respect to\nthe nature and use of this article.\n\nMoreover, it is said, \"Woe unto him that giveth his neighbor drink.\" But\ndoes not every man who sells or uses this liquor, as a beverage,\nencourage his neighbor to drink, and thus contemn God's authority? Does\nhe not aggravate his guilt by sinning against great light? And would he\nnot aggravate it still further, should he charge the blame on the sacred\nword? O, what a blot on the Bible, should one sentence be added,\n_encouraging the common use of intoxicating liquor_! \"If any man thus\nadd, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book.\"\n\nTo encourage the manufacture of such liquors _is to abuse the bounties\nof Providence_. When God had formed man, he kindly said, \"Behold, I have\ngiven you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the\nearth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding\nseed; _to you it shall be for meat_.\" God, then, it seems, intended men\nshould use the fruits of the earth for _food_. But \"they have sought out\nmany inventions.\" And one of these is, to convert these \"gifts of God\"\ninto a poison, most insidious in its nature, and destructive both to\nsoul and body. The distiller, the vender, and the consumer, encourage\none another in this perversion of God's gifts. And is this \"receiving\nhis gifts with thanksgiving?\" Better, infinitely better, to cast them at\nonce into the fire, and say unto the Almighty, \"We have no need of\nthese.\" But the ingratitude does not stop here. When men, in abuse of\nthe divine bounty, have made this poison, to give it currency, they call\nit one of the \"_creatures of God_.\" With as much propriety might they\ncall gambling establishments and murderous weapons his \"creatures.\" But\nhow awful the _impiety_ of thus ascribing the worst of man's inventions\nto the benevolent God!\n\nFor a man to _persevere in making, selling, or using intoxicating\nliquor, as an article of luxury or living_, WHILE FULLY KNOWING ITS\nEFFECTS, _and possessing_ THE LIGHT PROVIDENCE HAS POURED ON THIS\nSUBJECT, _is utterly inconsistent with any satisfactory evidence of\npiety_. \"By their fruits ye shall know them.\" And what are _his_ fruits.\nWhy, as we have seen, he wilfully cuts short his own life, or the life\nof his neighbor; he wilfully impairs memory, judgment, imagination, all\nthe immortal faculties, merely for sensual indulgence or paltry gain; he\nstupefies conscience, and cherishes all the evil passions; he prefers\nsordid appetite to pure spiritual enjoyment; he is the occasion of\nstumbling to those for whom Christ died, and of dark reproach on the\nchurch; he neglects the only means Providence has pointed out for\nsaving millions from drunkenness and perdition; he wilfully encourages\ntheir downward course; he refuses the aid he might give to a great\nnational reform; he lends his whole weight against this reformation; he\nis the occasion of offence, grief, and discord among brethren; he\ngrieves the Holy Spirit; he robs the Lord's treasury; he makes\nChristianity infamous in the eyes of the heathen; he disregards the\nplain spirit of the Bible; and, in fine, he perverts even the common\nbounties of Providence. Such are his fruits. And the man, surely, who\ncan do all this in meridian light, while God is looking on, and widows\nand orphans are remonstrating, _does not give satisfactory evidence of\npiety_. He shows neither respect for God nor love to man.\n\nLet conscience now solemnly review this whole argument by the infinitely\nholy law. Is it indeed right and scriptural to impair body and mind, to\ndefile the flesh, cloud the soul, stupefy conscience, and cherish the\nworst passions? Is it right to bring occasions of stumbling into the\nchurch? Is it right to encourage drunkards; right to treat with contempt\na great national reform? Is it right to offend such as Christ calls\n\"brethren;\" right to grieve the Holy Spirit, and hinder his blessed\ninfluence? Is it right to \"consume on lust\" what would fill the Lord's\ntreasury; and right to make religion odious to the heathen? Is it right\nto leave the land exposed to new floods of intemperance; to disregard\nthe manifest lessons of God's word and providence; and to convert food\nto poison? Is it indeed scriptural and right to sanction habits fraught\nonly with wounds, death, and perdition? Can _real Christians_, by\nexample, propagate such heresy?\n\nLet it not be suggested that our argument bears chiefly against the\n_excessive_ use of these liquors; for common observation and candor will\ntestify that the _moderate_ use of the poison is the real occasion of\nall its woes and abominations. Who was ever induced to taste, by the\ndisgusting sight of a drunkard? Or wise ever became a drunkard, except\nby moderate indulgence in the beginning? Indeed, this habit of moderate\ndrinking is, perhaps, tenfold _worse_ in its general influence on\nsociety than occasional instances of drunkenness; for these excite\nabhorrence and alarm, while moderate indulgence sanctions the general\nuse, and betrays millions to destruction. O never, since the first\ntemptation, did Satan gain such a victory, as when he induced Christians\nto sanction everywhere the use of intoxicating liquor. And never, since\nthe triumph of Calvary, has he experienced such a defeat as they are now\nsummoned to accomplish. Let them unitedly pledge themselves against\nstrong drink, and by _diffusing light on this subject_, do as much to\nexpose as they have done to encourage this grand device of Satan, and\nmighty rivers of death will soon be dried up.\n\nIn this work of LIGHT AND LOVE, then, be _generous_, \"be sober, be\nself-denying, be vigilant, be of one mind;\" for the great adversary, \"as\na roaring lion, walketh about.\" And possibly through apathy, or discord,\nor treason among professed friends of temperance, \"Satan may yet get an\nadvantage,\" and turn our fair morning into a heavier night of darkness,\nand tempest, and war. But woe to that man who, in this day of light,\nshall wilfully encourage the _exciting cause_ of such evils. And\nheaviest woe to him who shall avail himself of a standing in the church\nfor this purpose. I hear for such a loud remonstrance from countless\nmillions yet unborn, and a louder still from the throne of eternal\nJustice.\n\nBut \"though we thus speak,\" we hope better things, especially from the\ndecided followers of the Lamb, of every name; \"things which make for\npeace, things wherewith one may edify another, and things which\naccompany salvation\" to a dying world.\n\n\n\n\nFOUR REASONS\nAGAINST THE\nUSE OF ALCOHOLIC LIQUORS.\n\nBY JOHN GRIDLEY, M. D.\n\n\nIn presenting this subject, it shall be my aim to state and illustrate\nsuch facts and principles as shall induce every man, woman, and child,\ncapable of contemplating truth and appreciating motive, to exert the\nwhole weight of their influence in favor of the \"TEMPERANCE REFORM.\"\nThere are _Four Reasons_ which claim special attention.\n\nThe FIRST REASON we would urge, why the use of alcoholic liquors should\nbe altogether dispensed with, is their _immense cost_ to the consumers.\nIt is estimated from data as unerring as custom-house books, and the\ndeclarations of the manufacturers of domestic distilled spirit, that\nprevious to 1826, 60,000,000 gallons of ardent spirit were annually\nconsumed in these United States; the average cost of which is moderately\nstated at fifty cents per gallon, and in the aggregate _thirty millions_\nof dollars.\n\n_Thirty millions of dollars annually!_ A sum which, if spread out in one\ndollar bank-notes, end to end, would reach _across the Atlantic_. Or, if\nin silver dollars piled one upon the other, would form a column nearly\n_thirty miles_ high; and which it would occupy a man twelve hours in\neach day, for almost two years, to enumerate, allowing him to count one\nevery second. Or to suppose a useful application of this fund, it would\nsupport annually from _two to three hundred thousand young men_ in\npreparing for the Gospel ministry. In three years it is a sum more than\nequal to the supply of a _Bible to every family on the habitable\nglobe_. One-half the amount would defray all the ordinary expenses\nincident to the carrying on of our nation's governmental operations\nevery year. Thus I might multiply object upon object, which this vast\nsum is adequate to accomplish, and carry the mind from comparison to\ncomparison in estimating its immense amount; still the cost, thus\nconsidered as involving the _pecuniary_ resources of the country, is a\nmere _item_ of the aggregate, when the loss of time, waste of\nprovidential bounty, neglect of business, etc., incident to the\nconsumption of this one article, are thrown into the account.\n\nA SECOND REASON why its use should be condemned is, the _entire\ninadequacy of any property it possesses to impart the least benefit_,\neither nutrient, or in any other way substantially to the consumer, to\nsay nothing just now of its never-failing injurious effects. _Alcohol_\nconsists chemically in a state of purity of carbon, oxygen, and\nhydrogen; in the proportions of carbon about 52 parts, oxygen 34, and\nhydrogen 14 to the 100. The addition of water forms the various proof\nspirits. It can be generated in no way but by _fermentation_: no skill\nof art has yet been able to combine the above elements in such\nproportions, or relations, as to produce alcohol, except by heat and\nmoisture inciting fermentation in vegetable substances. But it should be\nunderstood, that vegetables may undergo a certain degree of fermentation\nwithout producing alcohol; or, if suffered to produce it, another stage\nof fermentation will radically destroy it, and produce an acid. Thus,\nany of the vegetable substances, as corn or rye, subjected to a certain\ndegree of heat and moisture, will soon suffer a decomposition, and a\ndevelopment of sugar, to a greater or less degree, will take place. If\nremoved now from circumstances favorable to its farther fermentation, as\nis the case with dough for bread, etc., no appreciable quantity of\nalcohol is created. A _further_ degree of fermentation, however, is\ngenerative of alcohol, and if arrested here, the alcohol maintains its\ndecided character; while still another stage presents the acetous state,\nand the alcoholic property is lost in vinegar. As in our opinion,\nsuccess to the temperance cause depends much upon a right understanding\nof _what alcohol is_, and the manner of its production, a more simple\nillustration may not be inappropriate here.\n\nA farmer takes a quantity of apples to the mill in order to convert them\ninto cider. He grinds, then lays them up into a cheese, when pressure is\napplied, and the juice runs into a vat placed to receive it. Here, at\nthis stage of the business, there is no alcohol in the juice. It is now\nput into casks, and the sweet or sugar stage of fermentation, which is\nalready begun, soon passes into the vinous or _alcoholic_ stage, as it\nis called, and _alcohol_ is formed. The prudent farmer, at this point,\nwhen the juice is done _working_, or fermenting, immediately bungs his\ncasks, and does such other things as his skill and experience may\nsuggest, to prevent his cider becoming sour, which it will do if the\nthird stage of fermentation is permitted to succeed. Here, then, he has\n_perfect alcohol_, though in small proportions; as perfect as it is in\nbrandy, gin, rum, and whiskey. The same results ensue from subjecting\ncorn, rye, barley, etc., to such processes as is customary to prepare\nthem for distillation, namely, to such a degree of fermentation as that\nalcohol is formed. And when the alcohol is formed by fermentation, then\nit is drawn off, by distilling, from its union with the other materials\nin the fermented mass. Alcohol, then, is strictly _the product of\nfermentation_. It is not, and cannot be produced in any other way. To\ndistil, therefore, is only to lead it off from its union with the\nvegetable mass, and show it naked with all its virulence.\n\nHaving considered the manner in which alcohol is formed, let us examine\nsome of its _properties_. It contains nothing that can afford any\nnourishment to the body, and consequently it can impart no strength.\nWhen taken in certain quantities, diluted with water, as it must be for\ncommon use, its effect is, to arouse the energies of the system, and for\na while the individual _feels_ stronger; but this excitement is always\nfollowed by depression and loss of animal and mental vigor. Thus it is\na mere provocative to momentary personal effort, without affording any\nresources to direct or execute. Hence the fallacy of that doctrine held\nby some, that to accomplish deeds of daring, feats of muscular strength,\netc., with success, demands the drinking of spirituous liquors. Were I\nabout to storm an enemy's battery, with no alternative before me but\nvictory or death, I might, principle aside, infuriate my men with the\nmaddening influence of ardent spirit, and let them loose upon the\ncharge, as I would a wounded elephant, or an enraged tiger. But in\nattaining an object to which the combined energies of mind and body were\nrequisite, I should never think of the appropriateness of spirituous\nliquor to aid the effort.\n\nBut an objector says, \"I certainly _feel stronger_ upon drinking a glass\nof spirit and water, and can do more work than I can without it. I can\nswing a scythe with more nerve, or pitch a load of hay in less time; and\nfeel a general invigoration of my body during the heat of a summer's\nday, after having drank a quantity of grog. How is this?\" We reply,\ndoubtless you _feel_ for the moment all that you describe; but your\n_feeling strength_ thus suddenly excited, is far from being proof that\nyou are _really_ any stronger. The opposite is the fact; which we infer\nfrom the inadequacy of any substance, be it ever so nutritious, to\nimpart strength so suddenly, as it would _seem_ ardent spirit did when\ndrank; for there has not been sufficient time for digestion, through\nwhich process only can any substantial nourishment be derived to the\nbody. The _apparent_ strength which an individual feels upon drinking\nardent spirit, is the same in kind, though not in degree, with that\nwhich a man feels who has lain sick with a fever fifteen or twenty days,\nduring which time he has taken little food, and been subjected to the\nweakening influence of medicines; but who on a sudden manifests great\nstrength, striving to rise from his bed, etc., and in his delirious\nefforts must be restrained perhaps by force. Now no man in his senses\nwill call this any _real_ increase of strength in the sick man, who has\nbeen starving thus long; but only a rallying of the powers of life under\nthe stimulus of disease, which is always followed by extreme languor and\ndebility, if not by death. So it is with the individual under the\ninfluence of ardent spirit: he _feels_ the powers of his body excited\nfrom the stimulus of the spirit; yet, as we think must be clear to the\napprehension of any one, without any addition of _actual_ strength.\n\nAgain, alcohol is not only innutritious, but is _poisonous_. Taken into\nthe stomach in an undiluted and _concentrated_ state, in quantities of\ntwo or three teaspoonfulls, it destroys life, as clearly shown in\nAccum's experiments. Combined with different proportions of water,\nsugar, etc., it is modified in its effects. Most of the vegetable and\nmineral poisons may be so diluted and modified as to be capable of\napplication to the bodies of men internally, without producing immediate\nfatal consequences; which, nevertheless, cannot be used any length of\ntime, even thus disarmed, without producing pernicious effects. So it is\nwith alcohol: like other poisons, it cannot be used any length of time,\neven diluted and modified, without proving pernicious to health, and if\npersevered in, in considerable quantities, inevitably destructive to\nlife. This last sentiment, however, we will consider more particularly\nunder the\n\nTHIRD REASON for the disuse of alcohol: It _destroys both body and\nsoul_. It is estimated that _thirty or forty thousand_ died annually in\nthe United States from the intemperate use of ardent spirit before the\nTemperance reformation began. Thirty or forty thousand! a sacrifice\nseldom matched by war or pestilence. The blood which flowed from the\nveins of our martyred countrymen, in the cause of freedom, never reached\nthis annual sacrifice. And the pestilential _cholera_, ruthless as it\nis, which has marked its desolating track through many of our towns and\ncities, numbers not an amount of victims like this plague, much as its\nvirulence has been enhanced by ardent spirit. The destructive influence\nof immoderate drinking upon the bodily powers of men, is painfully\napparent, sometimes long before the fatal catastrophe. The face, the\nspeech, the eyes, the walk, the sleep, the breath, all proclaim the\ndrying up of the springs of life. And although abused nature will often\nstruggle, and struggle, and struggle, to maintain the balance of her\npowers, and restore her wasted energies, she is compelled to yield at\nlength to suicidal violence.\n\nThe effect of the habitual use of ardent spirit upon the health, is much\ngreater than is generally supposed. An individual who is in the habit of\ndrinking spirits daily, although he may not fall under the character of\na drunkard, is undermining his constitution gradually, but certainly; as\na noble building, standing by the side of a small, unnoticed rivulet,\nwhose current steals along under its foundation, and carries away from\nits support sand after sand, has its security certainly though\nimperceptibly impaired, and finally falls into utter ruin. A large\nproportion of the inmates of our madhouses are the victims of ardent\nspirit. Our hospitals and poor-houses speak volumes of the ruin that\nawaits the bodily powers of those who indulge in even moderate tippling.\nIt exposes the system to much greater ravages when disease attacks it.\nThe powers of nature are weakened, and less able to resist disease; and\nmedicines will never act so promptly and kindly upon those who are\naccustomed to strong drink as upon those who are not.\n\nBut where is the _soul_, the disembodied spirit of a deceased drunkard?\n\"No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God,\" is the plain declaration\nof sacred writ; and were there no such scriptural denunciation of the\nwretched inebriate, the very nature of his case would render his\nprospect dark and dismal. In the intervals of his cups, when his animal\npowers are not goaded by artificial excitement, his distressed spirit\npartakes of the horrible collapse of its polluted tenement, and can\ncontemplate no motive, however weighty, nor entertain any other thought,\nbe it ever so interesting, than how to relieve its present wretchedness.\nWhen, then, can the unhappy man find peace with God amid this tumult of\nhis unbalanced faculties, this perturbation of his unholy passions? How\nutterly unfitted to perform those duties which are requisite to secure a\nblessed immortality?\n\nOur FOURTH REASON for the disuse of alcoholic liquors is, that _any\nthing short of entire abstinence exposes to all the dread consequences\njust named_. Here is the grand hope of our cause. TOTAL ABSTINENCE\ndefies all danger and mocks at consequences. With it, we are safe;\nwithout it, in peril.\n\nNo man was ever _born_ a drunkard; nor are we born with a natural taste\nor thirst for alcoholic drinks, any more than we are born with an\nappetite for aloes, assafoetida, or any other drug or medicine. And\nthe child when first taught to take it, is induced to do so only by\nsweetening it, and thus rendering it palatable, as is the case with\nother medicines. Neither is it, at any time, the taste or flavor of\nalcohol, exclusively, that presents such charms for the use of it; but\nin the effect upon the _stomach and nerves_ lie all the magic and\nwitchery of this destructive agent. In proof of this, watch the\ntrembling victim of strong drink while he pours down his morning or\nmid-day dram, and see him retch and strangle like a sickened child at a\nnauseous medicine. Ask him, too, and he will confess it is not the taste\nfor which he drinks. Intemperate drinking is ever the result of what has\nbeen misnamed _temperate drinking_. \"Taking a little\" when we are too\ncold, or too hot, or wet, or fatigued, or low-spirited, or have a pain\nin the stomach, or to keep off fevers, or from politeness to a friend,\nor not to appear singular in company, etc., etc., or as is sometimes\nchurlishly said, \"when we have a mind to.\"\n\nAnd here I shall step aside a little from the main argument, and attempt\nto _explain_ the _effects_ which _temperate drinking_ has upon the\nanimal system; and how it leads to ruinous drunkenness, BY A LAW OF OUR\nNATURES, certain and invariable. The nervous system, as I have said, is\nthat department of our bodies which suffers most from stimulants and\nnarcotics. Although the circulation of the blood is increased, and all\nthe animal spirits roused by alcoholic drink; still, the nerves are the\norgans that must finally bear the brunt and evil of this undue\nexcitement. Thus we see in the man who has been overexcited by these\nstimulants, a trembling hand, an infirm step, and impaired mental vigor.\nThe _excitability_ of our system--and by this term we mean that property\nof our natures which distinguishes all living from dead matter--is acted\nupon by stimuli, either external or internal; and it is by various\nstimuli, applied properly, and in due proportion, that the various\nfunctions of life are kept up. Thus a proper portion of food, and drink,\nand heat, and exercise, serves to maintain that balance of action among\nall the organs, which secures health to the individual. But if an agent\nis applied to the system, exerting stimulant powers exceeding those that\nare necessary for carrying on the vital functions steadily, an\nexcitement ensues which is always followed by a corresponding collapse.\nThis principle is clearly illustrated by the stimulus of alcohol. If a\nperson unaccustomed to its use receives into his stomach a given\nquantity of distilled spirits, it will soon produce symptoms of\nuniversal excitement. The pulse increases in frequency; the action of\nall the animal functions is quickened; and even the soul, partaking of\nthe impulse of its fleshly tabernacle, is unduly aroused. But this is of\nshort duration, and a sinking, or collapse, proportioned to the\nexcitement, soon takes place, with a derangement, more or less, of all\nthe organs of the body. The stimulus repeated, the same effect ensues.\nWe must, however, notice that the same quantity of any unnatural\nstimulus, such as opium, spirit, etc., frequently repeated, fails to\nproduce its specific effect. Hence, in order to secure the same effect,\nit is necessary to increase its quantity. Thus, to a person indulging in\nthe frequent or stated practice of drinking, before he is aware, the\nrepetition becomes pleasant. As the accustomed hour returns for his\ndram, he regularly remembers it; again and again he drinks; the desire\nincreases; he makes himself believe it is necessary from the very fact\nthat he desires it; the principle, or law, of which we have been\nspeaking, developes itself; an increased quantity becomes necessary to\ninsure a feeling of gratification; more, and still more becomes\nnecessary, and oftener repeated, until without it he is miserable; his\noverexcited system is wretched, soul and body, without _the constant\nstrain_ which the stimulus affords.\n\nHere is a solution of the fact that has astonished thousands; how the\nunhappy drunkard, with all the certain consequences of his course\nstaring him in the face, and amid the entreaties and arguments of\ndistressed friends, and the solemn denunciations of holy writ sounding\nin his ears, and the sure prospect of an untimely grave, will still\npress on, and hold the destroyer still firmer to his lips. It is because\nnature shrieks at every pore, if I may be allowed the expression. Every\nnerve, every vein, every fibre pines, and groans, and aches for its\naccustomed stimulus. No substitute will do; no ransom can purchase\nrelief; insatiate as the grave, every fibre cries, Give, give! The\ndictates of reason are drowned in the clamor of the senses. Thus the\n_temperate drinker, by persisting in the practice_, throws himself\nwithin the influence of _a law of his system_, of which he can no more\ncontrol the development, nor resist the urgency, than he can that law\nwhich circulates the blood through his heart, or any other law peculiar\nto animal life. That law is the LAW OF STIMULATION, which is never\nunduly aroused, except by sinful indulgences; but when aroused, is\ndreadfully urgent. We will state a case strikingly exemplifying the\ninfluence of this law.\n\nA gentleman, an acquaintance and friend of the writer, contracted the\nhabit of drinking during his college course. He settled in the practice\nof the law in one of the villages of his native state. He soon became\ninvested with offices of honor and profit, and although young, gave\npromise of shining brilliantly in the profession he had chosen. He was\nthe pride of a large and respectable family, who witnessed his growing\nprospects with that satisfaction and delight which the prosperity of a\nbeloved son and brother cannot fail to impart. In the midst of these\ncircumstances the physician was one day called in haste to see him. He\nhad fallen into a fit. His manly form lay stretched upon the carpet,\nwhile his features were distorted and purpled from the agony of the\nconvulsions. After some days, however, he recovered, without having\nsustained any permanent injury. Being in company with his physician\nalone, soon after, he said to him, \"I suspect, sir, you do not know the\ncause of my fit; and as I may have a return of it, when you will\nprobably be called, I think it proper that you should be made acquainted\nwith my habits of life.\" He then informed his physician, that for a\nnumber of years previous he had been in the daily use of ardent spirit,\nthat the practice had grown upon him ever since he left college, and\nthat he was conscious it injured him. However, it was not known even to\nhis own family what quantity he used. His physician did not hesitate to\ninform him of the extreme danger to his life in persisting in the use of\nintoxicating drinks. He acknowledged his perfect conviction of the truth\nof all that was said, and resolved to abandon his wicked course.\n\nNot many weeks after, he was seized with another fit; but owing to the\nabsence of the family physician, he did not see him until some time\nafter he had come out of it. The physician, however, who attended,\ninformed him it was violent. After repeated assurances of his increasing\ndanger, and the remonstrances of friends, who had now begun to learn the\nreal cause of his fits, he renewed his promises and determination to\nreform, and entered upon a course of total abstinence, which he\nmaintained for several months, and inspired many of his friends with\npleasing hopes of his entire reform and the reestablishment of his\nhealth. But, alas, in an unguarded moment, he dared to taste again the\nforbidden cup, and with this fled all his resolutions and restraints.\nFrom that time he drank more openly and freely. His fits returned with\npainful violence; friends remonstrated, entreated, pleaded, but all in\nvain. He thus continued his course of intemperance, with intervals of\nfits and sickness, about eight or ten months, and at length died\n_drunk_ in his bed, where he had lain for two or three weeks in a\ncontinual state of intoxication.\n\nThe writer has stated this case in detail, to show the influence of _the\nlaw of stimulation_, or what in popular language is termed, \"the\nappetite for spirituous liquors,\" when once it is awakened.\n\nHere we have the instance of an individual, of a fine and cultivated\nintellect, with every thing on earth to render him happy, that could be\ncomprised in wealth, friends, honor, and bright prospects. Ay, indeed,\ntoo, he professed an interest in the blood of the Saviour, and had\ncommuned with Christians at his table; surrounded by those whom he\ntenderly loved, the wife of his bosom, and the dear pledges of her\ndevotion. Yet, in spite of all these considerations, and the most\nsensible conviction of his fatal career, he continued to drink, and thus\npressed downward to the gate of death and hell.\n\nNow what was this? What giant's arm dragged this fair victim to an\nuntimely grave? Was it for the want of motives and obligations to pursue\nan opposite course? No. Was it for the want of intellect and talents to\nappreciate those obligations? No. Was it trouble, arising from\ndisappointed hopes and blasted prospects? Certainly, by those who knew\nhim best, he was accounted a man who might have been happy. What was it,\nthen, that urged this individual, with his eyes open upon the\nconsequences, and in the face of every thing most dear, thus to\nsacrifice his _all_ upon the altar of intemperance? It _was that law_ of\nwhich we have spoken, enkindled into action by his tippling, and which\nonce developed, he could no more control, _while persisting in his\npernicious practice of drinking_, than he could have hurled the Andes\nfrom their base, or have plucked the moon from her orbit.\n\nWe say, then, that all persons who drink ardent spirit habitually, bring\nthemselves inevitably under the influence of a law _peculiar to their\nnatures_, which leads on to ruin. Instances may indeed have occurred,\nin which individuals have used ardent spirit daily for a long course of\nyears, and yet died without becoming drunkards; but it only proves that\nthese have been constitutions that could _resist_ the _speedy\ndevelopment_ of the law in question. Where one individual is found with\na constitution vigorous enough to resist the development of this law\nthrough a life of habitual drinking, thousands go down to a drunkard's\ngrave, and a drunkard's retribution, from only a few years' indulgence.\n\nWe have thus briefly shown the _immense cost_ of the use of alcoholic\nliquors. We have shown that they contain _no property that can impart\nsubstantial strength or nourishment_ to the body; and that they are\nactually a POISON. We have shown that they _destroy_ both _body_ and\n_soul_; clouding the view of truth, and resisting the influences of the\nHoly Spirit. \"No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of God.\" We have\nshown that the _temperate use_ of these liquors tends inevitably to the\n_intemperate use_; since those who drink them habitually, throw\nthemselves within the influence of a _law of their natures_, which leads\non directly to ruin.\n\nIn view of such considerations and such facts, who is so degraded, so\nenslaved to appetite, or the love of gain, that he will not lend his aid\nto the TEMPERANCE REFORM? Who will indulge in what he calls the\ntemperate use, flattering himself that he can control his appetite, when\nthousands, who have boasted of _self-control_, have found themselves,\nere they were aware, within the coil of a serpent whose touch is poison,\nand whose sting is death? O, who that regards his neighbor, his family,\nhis own reputation, or his own soul, will in this day of light be found\ndallying with that which affords at best only _sensual_ pleasure, and\nwhich _at the last biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder_?\n\n\n\n\nDEBATES OF CONSCIENCE WITH\nA DISTILLER, A WHOLESALE DEALER,\nAND A RETAILER.\n\nBY HEMAN HUMPHREY, D. D. PRESIDENT OF AMHERST COLLEGE.\n\n\nDIALOGUE I.\n\nAT THE DISTILLERY.--FIRST INTERVIEW.\n\nDISTILLER. Good morning, Mr. Conscience; though I know you to be one of\nthe earliest risers, especially of late, I hardly expected to meet you\nhere at day-dawn.\n\nCONSCIENCE. I am none too early, it seems, to find you at your vocation.\nBut how are you going to dispose of this great black building?\n\nDISTILLER. Why, I do not understand you.\n\nCONSCIENCE. What are you doing with these boiling craters, and that\nhideous worm there?\n\nDISTILLER. Pray explain yourself.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Whose grain is that? and what is bread called in the Bible?\n\nDISTILLER. More enigmatical still.\n\nCONSCIENCE. To what market do you mean to send that long row of casks?\nand how many of them will it take, upon an average, to dig a drunkard's\ngrave?\n\nDISTILLER. Ah, I understand you now. I was hoping that I had quieted you\non that score. But I perceive you have come upon the old errand. You\nintend to read me another lecture upon the sixth commandment. But what\nwould you have me do?\n\nCONSCIENCE. Put out these fires.\n\nDISTILLER. Nay, but hear me. I entered into this business with your\napprobation. The neighbors all encouraged me. My brethren in the church\nsaid it would open a fine market for their rye, and corn, and cider; and\neven my minister, happening to come along when we were raising, took a\nlittle with us under the shade, and said he loved to see his people\nindustrious and enterprising.\n\nCONSCIENCE. \"The times of this ignorance God winked at--but now\ncommandeth all men everywhere to repent.\" In one part of your defence,\nat least, you are incorrect. It was not my _voice_, but my _silence_, if\nany thing, which gave consent; and I have always suspected there was\nsome foul play in the matter, and that I was kept quiet for the time by\ncertain deleterious opiates. Indeed, I distinctly recollect the morning\nbitters and evening toddy, which you were accustomed to give me; and\nthough I thought but little of it then, I now see that it deadened all\nmy sensibilities. This, I am aware, is no excuse. I ought to have\nresisted--I ought to have refused, and to have paralyzed the hand which\nput the cup to my lips. And when you struck the first stroke on this\nground, I ought to have warned you off with the voice of seven thunders.\nThat I did not then speak out, and do my duty, will cause me extreme\nregret and self-reproach to the latest hour of my life.\n\nDISTILLER. But what, my dear Conscience, has made you all at once so\nmuch wiser, not only than your former self, but than hundreds of\nenlightened men in every community, whose piety was never doubted? I\nmyself know, and have heard of not a few good Christians, including even\ndeacons and elders, who still continue to manufacture ardent spirit, and\nthink, or seem to think it right.\n\nCONSCIENCE. And think it right! Ask their consciences. I should like to\nwitness some of those interviews which take place in the night, and\nwhich make Christian distillers--(what a solecism!)--so much more\nirritable than they used to be. I know one of the brotherhood, at least,\nwhose conscience has been goading him these five years, and yet he\nperseveres.\n\nDISTILLER. But if I stop, what will the people do? Half the farmers in\ntown depend upon their rye and cider to pay their taxes, and even to\nsupport the Gospel.\n\nCONSCIENCE. So, then, you are pouring out these streams of liquid death\nover the land, and burning up your own neighbors, to enable them to pay\ntheir taxes and support religion! Why don't you set up a coffin factory,\nto create a brisker demand for lumber, and so help the farmers to pay\ntheir taxes; and then spread the smallpox among the people, that they\nmay die the faster, and thus increase your business, and give you a fair\nprofit? It will not do. I tell you, that I can give you no peace till\nyou put out these fires and destroy that worm.\n\nDISTILLER. How can I? Here is all my living, especially since, as you\nknow, my eldest son fell into bad habits, in spite of all the good\nadvice I daily gave him, and squandered what might have afforded me a\ncomfortable independence.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Suppose you were now in Brazil, and the owner of a large\nestablishment to fit out slave-traders with handcuffs for the coast of\nAfrica, and could not change your business without considerable\npecuniary sacrifice; would you make the sacrifice, or would you keep\nyour fires and hammers still going?\n\nDISTILLER. Why do you ask such puzzling questions? You know I don't like\nthem at all, especially when my mind is occupied with other subjects.\nLeave me, at least till I can compose myself, I beseech you.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Nay, but hear me through. Is it right for you to go on\nmanufacturing fevers, dropsy, consumption, delirium tremens, and a host\nof other frightful diseases, because your property happens to be vested\nin a distillery? Is it consistent with the great law of love by which\nyou profess to be governed? Will it bear examination in a dying hour?\nShall I bid you look back upon it from the brink of eternity, that you\nmay from such recollections gather holy courage for your pending\nconflict with the king of terrors? Will you bequeath this magazine of\nwrath and perdition to your only son not already ruined, and go out of\nthe world rejoicing that you can leave the whole concern in the hands of\none who is so trustworthy and so dear?\n\n[Here the Distiller leaves abruptly, without answering a word.]\n\n\nSECOND INTERVIEW.\n\nDISTILLER. (Seeing Conscience approach, and beginning to tremble.) What,\nso soon and so early at your post again? I did hope for a short respite.\n\nCONSCIENCE. O, I am distressed--I cannot hold my peace. I am pained at\nmy very heart.\n\nDISTILLER. Do be composed, I beseech you, and hear what I have to say.\nSince our last interview I have resolved to sell out, and I expect the\npurchaser on in a very few days.\n\nCONSCIENCE. What will _he_ do with the establishment when he gets it?\n\nDISTILLER. You must ask him, and not me. But whatever he may do with it,\n_I_ shall be clear.\n\nCONSCIENCE. I wish I could be sure of that; but let us see. Though you\nwill not make poison by the hundred barrels any longer yourself, you\nwill sell this laboratory of death to another man, for the same horrid\npurpose. You will not, with your own hands, go on forging daggers for\nmaniacs to use upon themselves and their friends, provided you can get\nsome one to take your business at a fair price. You will no longer drag\nthe car of Juggernaut over the bodies of prostrate devotees, if you can\n_sell out the privilege to good advantage_!\n\nDISTILLER. Was ever any man's conscience so captious before? You seem\ndetermined not to be satisfied with any thing. But beware; by pushing\nmatters in this way you will produce a violent \"reaction.\" Even\nprofessors of religion will not bear it. For myself, I wish to treat you\nwith all possible respect; but forbearance itself must have its limits.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Possibly you may be able to hold me in check a little\nlonger; but I am all the while gathering strength for an onset which you\ncannot withstand; and if you cannot bear these kind remonstrances now,\nhow will you grapple with \"the worm that never dies?\"\n\nDISTILLER. Enough, enough. I will obey your voice. But why so pale and\ndeathlike?\n\nCONSCIENCE. O, I am sick, I am almost suffocated. These tartarean fumes,\nthese dreadful forebodings, these heart-rending sights, and above all,\nmy horrid dreams, I cannot endure them. There comes our nearest\nneighbor, stealing across the lots, with his jug and half bushel of rye.\nWhat is his errand, and where is his hungry, shivering family? And see\nthere too, that tattered, half-starved boy, just entering the yard with\na bottle--who sent him here at this early hour? All these barrels--where\nare the wretched beings who are to consume this liquid fire, and to be\nconsumed by it?\n\nDISTILLER. Spare me, spare me, I beseech you. By going on at this rate a\nlittle longer you will make me as nervous as yourself.\n\nCONSCIENCE. But I cannot close this interview till I have related one of\nthe dreams to which I just alluded. It was only last night that I\nsuffered in this way, more than tongue can tell. The whole terrific\nvision is written in letters of fire upon the tablet of my memory; and I\nfeel it all the while burning deeper and deeper.\n\nI thought I stood by a great river of melted lava, and while I was\nwondering from what mountain or vast abyss it came, suddenly the field\nof my vision was extended to the distance of several hundred miles, and\nI perceived that, instead of springing from a single source, this\nrolling torrent of fire was fed by numerous tributary streams, and these\nagain by smaller rivulets. And what do you think I heard and beheld, as\nI stood petrified with astonishment and horror? There were hundreds of\npoor wretches struggling and just sinking in the merciless flood. As I\ncontemplated the scene still more attentively, the confused noise of\nboisterous and profane merriment, mingled with loud shrieks of despair,\nsaluted my ears. The hair of my head stood up--and looking this way and\nthat way, I beheld crowds of men, women, and children, thronging down to\nthe very margin of the river--some eagerly bowing down to slake their\nthirst with the consuming liquid, and others convulsively striving to\nhold them back. Some I saw actually pushing their neighbors headlong\nfrom the treacherous bank, and others encouraging them to plunge in, by\nholding up the fiery temptation to their view. To insure a sufficient\ndepth of the river, so that destruction might be made doubly sure, I saw\na great number of men, and some whom I knew to be members of the church,\nlaboriously turning their respective contributions of the glowing and\nhissing liquid into the main channel. This was more than I could bear. I\nwas in perfect torture. But when I expostulated with those who were\nnearest to the place where I stood, they coolly answered, _This is the\nway in which we get our living!_\n\nBut what shocked me more than all the rest, and curdled every drop of\nblood in my veins, was the sight which I had of this very distillery\npouring out its tributary stream of fire! And O, it distracts, it\nmaddens me to think of it. There you yourself stood feeding the torrent\nwhich had already swallowed up some of your own family, and threatened\nevery moment to sweep you away! This last circumstance brought me from\nthe bed, by one convulsive bound, into the middle of the room; and I\nawoke in an agony which I verily believe I could not have sustained for\nanother moment.\n\nDISTILLER. I will feed the torrent no longer. The fires of my distillery\nshall be put out. From this day, from this hour, I renounce the\nmanufacture of ardent spirit for ever.\n\n\nDIALOGUE II.\n\nWHOLESALE DEALER'S COUNTING-ROOM.\n\nCONSCIENCE. (Looking over the ledger with a serious air.) What is that\nlast invoice from the West Indies?\n\nRUM-DEALER. Only a few casks of fourth proof, for particular customers.\n\nCONSCIENCE. And that domestic poison, via New Orleans; and on the next\npage, that large consignment, via Erie Canal?\n\nDEALER. O, nothing but two small lots of prime whiskey, such as we have\nbeen selling these twenty years. But why these chiding inquiries? They\ndisquiet me exceedingly. And to tell you the plain truth, I am more than\nhalf offended at this morbid inquisitiveness.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Ah, I am afraid, as I have often told you, that this is a\nbad business; and the more I think of it, the more it troubles me.\n\nDEALER. Why so? You are always preaching up industry as a Christian\nvirtue, and my word for it, were I to neglect my business, and saunter\nabout the hotels and steamboat wharves, as some do, you would fall into\nconvulsions, as if I had committed the unpardonable sin.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Such pettish quibbling is utterly unworthy of your good\nsense and ordinary candor. You know, as well as I do, the great\ndifference between industry in some safe and honest calling, and driving\na business which carries poverty and ruin to thousands of families.\n\nDEALER. _Honest_ industry! This is more cruel still. You have known me\ntoo long to throw out such insinuations; and besides, it is notorious,\nthat some of the first merchants in our city are engaged, far more\nextensively, in the same traffic.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Be it so. \"To their own Master they stand or fall.\" But if\nfair dealing consists in \"doing as we would be done by,\" how can a man\nof your established mercantile and Christian reputation sustain himself,\nif he continues to deal in an article which he knows to be more\ndestructive than all the plagues of Egypt?\n\nDEALER. Do you intend, then, to make me answerable for all the mischief\nthat is done by ardent spirit, in the whole state and nation? What I\nsell is a mere drop of the bucket, compared with the consumption of a\nsingle county. Where is the proof that the little which my respectable\ncustomers carry into the country, with their other groceries, ever does\nany harm? How do you know that it helps to make such a frightful host of\ndrunkards and vagabonds? And if it did, whose fault would it be? I never\ngave nor sold a glass of whiskey to a tippler in my life. Let those who\nwill drink to excess, and make brutes of themselves, answer for it.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Yes, certainly _they_ must answer for it; but will that\nexcuse those who furnish the poison? Did you never hear of abettors and\naccessaries, as well as principals in crime? When Judas, in all the\nagony of remorse and despair, threw down the thirty pieces of silver\nbefore the chief priests and elders, exclaiming, _I have sinned, in that\nI have betrayed the innocent blood_--they coolly answered, _What is that\nto us? See thou to that._ And was it therefore nothing to them? Had\nthey no hand in that cruel tragedy? Was it nothing to Pilate--nothing to\nHerod--nothing to the multitude who were consenting to the crucifixion\nof the Son of God--because they did not drive the nails and thrust the\nspear?\n\nO, when I think of what you are doing to destroy the bodies and souls of\nmen, I cannot rest. It terrifies me at all hours of the night. Often and\noften, when I am just losing myself in sleep, I am startled by the most\nfrightful groans and unearthly imprecations, coming out of these\nhogsheads. And then, those long processions of rough-made coffins and\nbeggared families, which I dream of, from nightfall till daybreak, they\nkeep me all the while in a cold sweat, and I can no longer endure them.\n\nDEALER. Neither can I. Something must be done. You have been out of your\nhead more than half the time for this six months. I have tried all the\nordinary remedies upon you without the least effect. Indeed, every new\nremedy seems only to aggravate the disease. O, what would not I give for\nthe discovery of some anodyne which would lay these horrible phantasms.\nThe case would be infinitely less trying, if I could sometimes persuade\nyou, for a night or two, to let me occupy a different apartment from\nyourself; for when your spasms come on, one might as well try to sleep\nwith embers in his bosom, as where you are.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Would it mend the matter at all, if, instead of sometimes\ndreaming, I were to be always wide awake?\n\nDEALER. Ah, there's the grand difficulty. For I find that when you do\nwake up, you are more troublesome than ever. _Then_ you are always\nharping upon my being a professor of religion, and bringing up some text\nof Scripture, which might as well be let alone, and which you would not\nring in my ears, if you had any regard to my peace, or even your own.\nMore than fifty times, within a month, have you quoted, \"_By their\nfruits ye shall know them._\" In fact, so uncharitable have you grown of\nlate, that from the drift of some of your admonitions, a stranger would\nthink me but little, if any, better than a murderer. And all because\nsome vagabond or other may possibly happen to shorten his days by\ndrinking a little of the identical spirit which passes through my hands.\n\nCONSCIENCE. You do me bare justice when you say that I have often\nreproved you, and more earnestly of late than I formerly did. But my\nremonstrances have always been between you and me alone. If I have\ncharged you with the guilt of hurrying men to the grave and to hell, by\nthis vile traffic, it has not been upon the house-top. I cannot, it is\ntrue, help knowing how it grieves your brethren, gratifies the enemies\nof religion, and excites the scorn of drunkards themselves, to see your\nwharf covered with the fiery element; but I speak only in your own ear.\nTo yourself I have wished to prove a faithful monitor, though I have sad\nmisgivings, at times, even with regard to that. You will bear me\nwitness, however, that I have sometimes trembled exceedingly, for fear\nthat I should be compelled, at last, to carry the matter up by\nindictment to the tribunal of Eternal Justice.\n\nTo avoid this dreadful necessity, let me once more reason the case with\nyou in few words. You know perfectly well, that ardent spirit kills its\ntens of thousands in the United States every year; and there is no more\nroom to doubt that many of these lives are destroyed by the very liquor\nwhich you sell, than if you saw them staggering under it into the\ndrunkard's grave. How then can you possibly throw off bloodguiltiness,\nwith the light which you now enjoy? In faithfulness to your soul, and to\nHim whose vicegerent I am, I cannot say less than this, especially if\nyou persist any longer in the horrible traffic?\n\nDEALER. Pardon me, my dear Conscience, if, under the excitement of the\nmoment, I complained of your honest and continued importunity. Be\nassured, there is no friend in the world, with whom I am so desirous of\nmaintaining a good understanding as with yourself. And for your relief\nand satisfaction, I now give you my solemn pledge, that I will close up\nthis branch of my business as soon as possible. Indeed, I have commenced\nthe process already. My last consignments are less, by more than one\nhalf, than were those of the preceding year; and I intend that, when\nanother year comes about, my books shall speak still more decidedly in\nmy favor.\n\nCONSCIENCE. These resolutions would be perfectly satisfactory, if they\nwere in the _present tense_. But if it was wrong to sell five hundred\ncasks last year, how can it be right to sell two hundred this year, and\none hundred next? If it is criminal to poison forty men at one time, how\ncan it be innocent to poison twenty at another? If you may not throw a\nhundred firebrands into the city, how will you prove that you may throw\none?\n\nDEALER. Very true, very true--but let us wave this point for the\npresent. It affects me very strangely.\n\nCONSCIENCE. How long, then, will it take to dry up this fountain of\ndeath?\n\nDEALER. Don't call it so, I beseech you; but I intend to be entirely out\nof the business in two or three years, at farthest.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Two or three years! Can you, then, after all that has passed\nbetween us, persist two or three years longer in a contraband traffic? I\nverily thought, that when we had that long conference two or three\nmonths ago, you resolved to close the concern at once; and that, when we\nparted, I had as good as your promise, that you would. Surely, you\ncannot so soon have forgotten it.\n\nDEALER. No, I remember that interview but too well; for I was never so\nunhappy in my life. I did almost resolve, and more than half promise,\nas you say. But after I had time to get a little composed, I thought you\nhad pushed matters rather too far; and that I could convince you of it,\nat a proper time. I see, however, that the attempt would be fruitless.\nBut as I am anxious for a compromise, let me ask whether, if I give away\nall the profits of this branch of my business to the Bible Society, and\nother religious institutions, till I can close it up, you will not be\nsatisfied?\n\nCONSCIENCE. Let me see. Five hundred dollars, or one hundred dollars,\nearned to promote the cause of religion by selling poison! By killing\nhusbands, and fathers, and brothers, and torturing poor women and\nchildren! It smells of blood--and can God possibly accept of such an\noffering?\n\nDEALER. So then, it seems, I must stop the sale at once, or entirely\nforfeit what little charity you have left.\n\nCONSCIENCE. You must. Delay is death--death to the consumer at least;\nand how can you flatter yourself that it will not prove your own eternal\ndeath? My convictions are decisive, and be assured, I deal thus plainly\nbecause I love you, and cannot bear to become your everlasting\ntormentor.\n\n\nDIALOGUE III.\n\nAT THE RETAILER'S STAND.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Do you know that little half-starved, bare-footed child,\nthat you just sent home with two quarts of rank poison?\n\n(Retailer hums a tune to himself, and affects not to hear the question.)\n\nCONSCIENCE. I see by the paper of this morning, that the furniture of\nMr. M---- is to be sold under the hammer to-morrow. Have I not often\nseen him in your taproom?\n\nRETAILER. I am extremely busy just now, in bringing up our ledger.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Have you heard how N---- abused his family, and turned them\nall into the street the other night, after being supplied by you with\nwhiskey?\n\nRETAILER. He is a _brute_, and ought to be confined in a dungeon six\nmonths at least, upon bread and water.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Was not S----, who hung himself lately, one of your steady\ncustomers? and where do you think his soul is now fixed for eternity?\nYou sold him rum that evening, not ten minutes before you went to the\nprayer-meeting, and had his money in your pocket--for you would not\ntrust him--when you led in the exercises. I heard you ask him once, why\nhe did not attend meeting, and send his children to the Sabbath-school;\nand I shall never forget his answer. \"Come, you talk like a minister;\nbut, after all, we are about of one mind--at least in some things. Let\nme have my jug and be going.\"\n\nRETAILER. I know he was an impudent, hardened wretch; and though his\ndeath was extremely shocking, I am glad to be rid of him.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Are you ready to meet him at the bar of God, and to say to\nthe Judge, \"He was my neighbor--I saw him going down the broad way, and\nI did every thing that a Christian could do to save him?\"\n\nRETAILER. (Aside. O that I could stifle the upbraidings of this cruel\nmonitor.) You keep me in constant torment. This everlasting cant about\n_rank poison, and liquid fire, and blood, and murder_, is too much for\neven a Christian to put up with. Why, if any body but Conscience were to\nmake such insinuations and charges, he would be indictable as a foul\nslanderer, before a court of justice.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Is it _slander_, or is it _because I tell you the truth_,\nthat your temper is so deeply ruffled under my remonstrances? Suppose I\nwere to hold my peace, while your hands are becoming more and more\ndeeply crimsoned with this bloody traffic. What would you say to me,\nwhen you come to meet that poor boy who just went out, and his drunken\nfather, and broken-hearted mother, at the bar of God? Would you thank\nyour conscience for having let you alone while there was space left for\nrepentance?\n\nRETAILER. Ah, had honest trader ever _such_ a conscience to deal with\nbefore? Always just so uncompromising--always talking about the \"golden\nrule\"--always insisting upon a moral standard which nobody can live up\nto--always scenting poverty, murder, and suicide, in every glass of\nwhiskey, though it were a mile off. The truth is, you are not fit to\nlive in this world at all. Acting in conformity with your more than\npuritanical rules, would starve any man and his family to death.\n\nCONSCIENCE. Well, here comes another customer--see the carbuncles! Will\nyou fill his bottle with wrath, to be poured out without mixture, by and\nby, upon your own head? Do you not know that his pious wife is extremely\nill, and suffering for want of every comfort, in their miserable cabin?\n\nRETAILER. No, Mr. E----, go home and take care of your family. I am\ndetermined to harbor no more drunkards here.\n\nCONSCIENCE. You mean to make a distinction then, do you, between\nharboring those who are already ruined, and helping to destroy such as\nare now respectable members of society. You will not hereafter tolerate\na single _drunkard_ on your premises; but--\n\nRETAILER. Ah, I see what you are aiming at; and really, it is too much\nfor any honest man, and still more for any Christian to bear. You know\nit is a long time since I have pretended to answer half your captious\nquestions. There's no use in it. It only leads on to others still more\nimpertinent and puzzling. If I am the hundredth part of that factor of\nSatan which you would make me, I ought to be dealt with, and cast out\nof the church at once; and why don't my good brethren see to it?\n\nCONSCIENCE. That's a hard question, which they, perhaps, better know how\nto answer than I do.\n\nRETAILER. But have you forgotten, my good Conscience, that in retailing\nspirit, I am under the immediate eye and sanction of the laws. Mine is\nno contraband traffic, as you very well know. I hold a license from the\nrulers and fathers of the state, and have paid my money for it into the\npublic treasury. Why do they continue to grant and sell licenses, if it\nis wrong for me to sell rum?\n\nCONSCIENCE. Another hard question, which I leave them to answer as best\nthey can. It is said, however, that public bodies have no soul, and if\nthey have no soul, it is difficult to see how they can have any\nconscience; and if not, what should hinder them from selling licenses?\nBut suppose the civil authorities should offer to sell you a license to\nkeep a gambling-house, or a brothel, would you purchase such a license,\nand present it as a salvo to your conscience?\n\nRETAILER. I tell you once more, there is no use in trying to answer your\nquestions; for say what I will, you have the art of turning every thing\nagainst me. It was not always so, as you must very distinctly remember.\nFormerly I could retail hogshead after hogshead of all kinds of spirits,\nand you slept as quietly as a child. But since you began to read these\nReports and Tracts about drinking, and to attend Temperance meetings, I\nhave scarcely had an hour's peace of my life. I feared that something\nlike this would be the effect upon your nervous temperament, when you\nbegan; and you may recollect that I strongly objected to your troubling\nyourself with these new speculations. It now grieves me to think that I\never yielded to your importunity; and beware that you do not push me to\nextremities in this matter, for I have about come to the resolution\nthat I will have no more of these mischievous pamphlets, either about\nmy store or tavern; and that your temperance agents may declaim to the\nwinds and walls, if they please.\n\nCONSCIENCE. I am amazed at your blindness and obstinacy. It is now from\nthree to five years since I began to speak--though in a kind of\nindistinct undertone at first--against this bloody traffic. I have\nreasoned, I have remonstrated, and latterly I have threatened and\nimplored with increasing earnestness. At times you have listened, and\nbeen convinced that the course which you are pursuing, in this day of\nlight, is infamous, and utterly inconsistent with a Christian\nprofession; but before your convictions and resolutions have time to\nripen into action, the love of _money_ regains its ascendency: and thus\nhave you gone on _resolving, and relapsing, and re-resolving_--one hour\nat the preparatory lecture, and the next unloading whiskey at your door;\none moment mourning over the prevalence of intemperance, and the next\narranging your decanters to entice the simple; one day partaking of the\ncup of the Lord at his table, and the next offering the cup of devils to\nyour neighbors; one day singing,\n\n    \"All that I have, and all I am,\n    I consecrate to Thee,\"\n\nand the next, _for the sake of a little gain_, sacrificing your\ncharacter, and polluting all you can induce to drink! O, how can I hold\nmy peace? How can I let you alone? If you will persist, your blood, and\nthe blood of those whom you thus entice and destroy, be upon your own\nhead. Whether you will hear, or whether you will forbear, I shall not\ncease to remonstrate; and when I can do no more to reclaim you, I will\nsit down at your gate, in the bitterness of despair, and cry, _Murder!_\nMurder!! MURDER!!!\n\nRETAILER. (Pale and trembling.) \"Go thy way for this time; when I have a\nconvenient season, I will call for thee.\"\n\n\n\n\nBARNES\nON THE\nTRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS.\n\n\nThere are some great principles in regard to _our_ country, which are\nsettled, and which are never to be violated, so long as our liberties\nare safe. Among them are these: that every thing may be subjected to\ncandid and most free discussion; that public opinion, enlightened and\ncorrect, may be turned against any course of evil conduct; that that\npublic opinion is, under God, the prime source of security to our laws\nand to our morals; and that men may be induced, by an ample and liberal\ndiscussion, and by the voice of conscience and of reason, to abandon any\ncourse that is erroneous. We are to presume that we may approach any\nclass of American citizens with the conviction that if they are\n_convinced_ that they are wrong, and that their course of life leads to\nsap the foundation of morals and the liberties of their country, they\nwill abandon it.\n\nOur present proposition is, that THE MANUFACTURING AND VENDING OF ARDENT\nSPIRITS IS MORALLY WRONG, AND OUGHT TO BE FORTHWITH ABANDONED.\n\nWe _mean by the proposition_, that it is an employment which _violates\nthe rules of morals that ought to regulate a man's business and\nconduct_. The doctrine proceeds on the supposition, that there is\nsomewhere a correct standard of morals--a standard by which a man's\nwhole conduct and course of life is to be tried; and that _this_\nbusiness cannot be vindicated by a reference to that standard. Or, for\nexample, we mean that it is man's duty to love God, and seek to honor\nhim, and that this business cannot be vindicated by a reference to that\nstandard. That it is man's duty to love his fellow-men, and seek to\npromote their welfare, and that this business cannot be vindicated by\nthat standard. That it is man's duty to render a valuable compensation\nto his fellow-men in his transactions with them, and that this business\ncannot be vindicated by that standard. That every man is bound to pursue\nsuch a course of life as shall promote the welfare of the entire\ncommunity in which he lives, as shall _not_ tend to promote crime, and\npauperism, and misery, and to make widows and orphans, and that this\nbusiness cannot be vindicated by that standard. In one word, that by any\nrules of life that have been set up to regulate the conduct of men,\nwhether in the Bible, in the necessary relations of the social compact,\nin the reason and conscience of Christians, and of other men, this\nbusiness is incapable of vindication, and is to be regarded as immoral.\n\nIn this proposition, however, it is important to be understood. We mean\nto confine it simply to the business where it is sold as an article of\n_drink_. For to sell it as a medicine, with the same precaution as other\npoisons are sold, would be no more immoral than it is to sell arsenic.\nAnd to sell it for purposes of manufacture, where it is necessary for\nthat purpose, is no more immoral than to sell any other article with\nthat design. Between selling it for _these_ purposes, and selling it as\nan article of drink, there is, as any one can see, the widest possible\ndifference.\n\nWhen we speak of this business as _immoral_, it is also important to\nguard the use of the word _immoral_. That word, with us, has come to\nhave a definite and well understood signification. When we speak of an\nimmoral man, we are commonly understood to attack the foundations of his\ncharacter; to designate some gross vice of which he is guilty, and to\nspeak of him as profane, or licentious, or profligate, or dishonest, or\nas unworthy of our confidence and respect. Now, we by no means intend to\nuse the word in such a wide sense, when we say that this business is\nimmoral. We do not mean to intimate that in no circumstances a man may\nbe engaged in it and be worthy of our confidence, and be an honest man,\nor even a Christian: for our belief is, that many such men have been,\nand are still, unhappily engaged in this traffic. The time has been,\nwhen it was thought to be as reputable as any other employment. Men may\nnot see the injurious tendency of their conduct. They may not be\napprized of its consequences; or they may be ignorant of the proper\nrules by which human life is to be regulated. Thus, the slave-trade was\nlong pursued, and duelling was deemed right, and bigamy was practised.\nBut for a man to maintain that all these would be right _now_, and to\npractise them, would be a very different thing.\n\nIn this view of the subject, we do not of course speak of the dead, or\noffer any reflection on their conduct or character. Many men are\nunwilling to regard this traffic as wrong, because, by so doing, they\nwould seem to convey a reflection on their parents, or friends, who may\nhave been engaged in the same business. But nothing of this kind is\nintended. The great laws of morals are indeed unchanged: but the degrees\nof light and knowledge which men possess may be very different. We\nshould not deem it right to apply _our_ laws and knowledge, in judging\nof the laws of Sparta, which authorized theft; nor our laws to judge of\nthe conduct of the Hindoo in exposing his father on the banks of the\nGanges; nor our present views to determine on the morality of our\nfathers an hundred years ago in the slave-trade; nor our views of the\nmarriage relation to condemn the conduct of Abraham, David, or Jacob.\nMan's conduct is to be estimated by the light which he has. They who sin\nwithout law, are to be judged without law; and they who sin in the law,\nare to be judged by the law. Your father might have been engaged in the\ntraffic in ardent spirits. Whether he was innocent or not, is not now\nthe question, and has been determined by a higher tribunal than any on\nearth. The question now is, whether _you_ can pursue it with a good\nconscience; or whether, with all that you know of the effects of the\ntraffic, it be right or wrong for you to pursue it.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith these necessary explanations, I proceed to PROVE that, in the sense\nin which it has been explained, the traffic is MORALLY WRONG.\n\nIn proving this proposition, I shall take for granted two or three\npoints which are now conceded, and to establish which would lead me too\nfar out of my way. The first is, that this is not an employment in which\n_the properties of the article are unknown_. The seller has as good an\nopportunity to be acquainted with the qualities of the article, and its\neffects, as the buyer. There is no concealment of its character and\ntendency; there can be no pretence that you were deceived in regard to\nthose qualities, and that you were unintentionally engaged in the sale\nof an article which has turned out to be otherwise than you supposed it\nto be. For, alas, those properties are too well ascertained; and all who\nare engaged in this employment have ample opportunity to know what they\nare doing, and engage in it with their eyes open.\n\nThe _effects_ of this traffic are well known. The public mind has been,\nwith remarkable intensity, directed to this subject for ten years in\nthis land, and the details have been laid before the American public. It\nis believed that no vice has ever been so faithfully gauged, and the\ndetails so well ascertained, as the vice of intemperance in this nation.\nIt is far better understood than the extent of gambling, of piracy, or\nrobbery, or the slave-trade. It is established now, beyond the\npossibility of debate, that ardent spirits is a poison, as certain, as\ndeadly, and destructive, as any other poison. It may be more slow in its\neffects, but it is not the less certain. This is established by the\ntestimony of all physicians and chemists who have expressed an opinion\non the subject. It is not necessary for the welfare of man as an\nordinary drink. This is proved by the like testimony, by the example of\nmany thousands who abstain from it, and by the fact, that before its\ninvention, the Roman soldier, the Scythian, and the Greek, were as hardy\nand long-lived as men have been since. Its direct tendency is to produce\ndisease, poverty, crime, and death. Its use tends to corrupt the morals,\nto enfeeble the intellect, to produce indolence, wretchedness, and woe\nin the family circle; to shorten life, and to hurry to a loathsome\ngrave; to spread a pall of grief over families and nations. It is\nascertained to be the source of nine-tenths of all the pauperism, and\nnine-tenths of all the crimes in the land. It fills our streets with\ndrunkards, our almshouses with loathsome wretches, our jails with poor\ncriminals, and supplies our gibbets with victims. It costs the land in\nwhich we live more than 100,000,000 of dollars annually, and renders us\nno compensation but poverty, want, curses, loathsomeness, and tears.\n\nIn any single year in this Union, could the effects be gathered into one\nsingle grasp, they would present to the eye the following affecting\ndetails. An army of at least 300,000 drunkards--not made up of old men,\nof the feeble, but of those in early life; of our youth, of our men of\ntalents and influence; an enlistment from the bar, the bench, the\npulpit, the homes of the rich, and the firesides of piety; the abodes of\nthe intelligent, as well as the places of obscurity, and the humble\nranks--all reeling together to a drunkard's grave. With this army\nNapoleon would have overran Europe. In the same group would be no less\nthan 75,000 criminals, made such by the use of ardent spirits; criminals\nof every grade and dye, supported at the expense of the sober, and lost\nto morality, and industry, and hope; the source of lawsuits, and the\nfountain of no small part of the expenses of courts of justice. In the\nsame group would be no less than 200,000 paupers, in a land abounding in\nall the wealth that the richest soil can give, and under all the\nfacilities which the most favored spot under the whole heaven can\nfurnish for acquiring a decent and an honest subsistence. Paupers,\nsupported at the expense of the sober and the industrious, and creating\nno small part of our taxes, to pay for their indolence, and\nwretchedness, and crimes. And in the same group would be no less than\n600 insane persons, made such by intemperance, in all the horrid and\nrevolting forms of delirium--the conscience destroyed, the mind\nobliterated, and hope and happiness fled for ever. And in the same group\nthere would be no less than 30,000 of our countrymen, who die annually,\nas the direct effect of the use of ardent spirit. Thirty thousand of our\ncountrymen sinking to the most loathsome and dishonored of all graves,\nthe grave of the drunkard. This is just a summary of the obvious and\nsure effects of this vice. The innumerable woes that it incidentally\ncauses; the weeping and groans of the widow and the fatherless; the\ncrimes and vices which it tends to introduce into abodes that would, but\nfor this, be the abodes of peace, are not, and cannot be taken into the\naccount.\n\nNow, this state of things, if produced in any other way, would spread\nweeping and sackcloth over nations and continents. Any sweeping\npestilence that could do this, would hold a nation in alarm, and\ndiffuse, from one end of it to the other, trembling and horror. The\nworld has never known any thing else like it. The father of mischief has\nnever been able to invent any thing that should diffuse more wide-spread\nand dreadful evils.\n\nIt is agreed further, and well understood, that this is the _regular\neffect of the traffic, and manufacture, and use of this article_. It is\nnot casual, incidental, irregular. It is uniform, certain, deadly, as\nthe sirocco of the desert, or as the malaria of the Pontine marshes. It\nis not a periodical influence, returning at distant intervals; but it is\na pestilence, breathing always--diffusing the poison when men sleep and\nwhen they wake, by day and by night, in seed-time and harvest--attending\nthe manufacture and sale of the article _always_. The destroyer seeks\nhis victim alike in every hogshead, and in every glass. He exempts no\nman from danger that uses it; and is always secure of prostrating the\nmost vigorous frame, of clouding the most splendid intellect, of\nbenumbing the most delicate moral feelings, of palsying the most\neloquent tongue, of teaching those on whose lips listening senates hung,\nto mutter and babble with the drunkard, and of entombing the most\nbrilliant talents and hopes of youth, wherever man can be induced to\ndrink. The establishment of every distillery, and every dram-shop, and\nevery grocery where it is sold, secures the certainty that many a man\nwill thereby become a drunkard, and be a curse to himself and to the\nworld. The traffic is not only occasionally and incidentally injurious,\nbut it is like the generation before the flood in its effects, evil, and\nonly evil continually.\n\nNow the question is, whether this is an employment in which a moral man\nand a Christian man _ought_ to be engaged. Is it such a business as his\ncountrymen ought to approve? Is it such as his conscience and sober\njudgment approve? Is it such as his God and Judge will approve?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn examining this, let it be remembered, that the _reason_ why this\noccupation is engaged in, and the sole reason, is, _to make money_. It\nis not because it is supposed that it will benefit mankind; nor is it\nbecause the man supposes that duty to his Creator requires it; nor is it\nbecause it is presumed that it will promote public health, or morals,\nor happiness; but it is engaged in and pursued solely as a means of\nlivelihood or of wealth. And the question then is reduced to a very\nnarrow compass: Is it _right_ for a man, for the sake of gain, to be\nengaged in the sale of a poison--a poison attended with destruction to\nthe property, health, happiness, peace, and salvation of his neighbors;\nproducing mania, and poverty, and curses, and death, and woes\ninnumerable to the land, and to the church of God? A question this, one\nwould think, that might be very soon answered. In answering it, I invite\nattention to a few very obvious, but undeniable positions.\n\n1. It is an employment which tends to _counteract the very design of the\norganization of society_. Society is organized on a benevolent\nprinciple. The structure of that organization is one of the best adapted\ninstances of design, and of benevolence, anywhere to be found. It is on\nthis principle that a lawful employment--an employment fitted to produce\nsubsistence for a man and his family, will not interfere with the rights\nand happiness of others. It may be pursued without violating any of\ntheir rights, or infringing on their happiness in any way. Nay, it may\nnot only not interfere wits _their_ rights and happiness, but it will\ntend to promote directly their welfare, by promoting the happiness of\nthe whole. Or, for example, the employment of the farmer may be pursued,\nnot only without interfering with the rights or privileges of the\nmechanic, the physician, or the merchant, but it will directly\ncontribute to _their_ welfare, and is indispensable to it. The\nemployment of the physician not only contributes to the support of\nhimself and family, but to the welfare of the whole community. It not\nonly does _not_ interfere with the rights and happiness of the farmer\nand the mechanic, but it tends directly to their advantage. The\nemployment of the merchant in lawful traffic, not only contributes to\nhis support, but is directly beneficial to the whole agricultural part\nof the community; for, as has been well said, \"the merchant is the\nfriend of mankind.\" He injures no man, at the same time that he benefits\nhimself; and he contributes to the welfare of the community, by\npromoting a healthful and desirable exchange of commodities in different\nparts of the land, and of various natures. The same is true of the\nmechanic, the mariner, the legislator, the bookmaker, the day-laborer,\nthe schoolmaster, the lawyer, the clergyman.\n\nNow, we maintain that the traffic in ardent spirits, as a drink, is a\nviolation of this wise arrangement. It tends to sap the foundation of\nthe whole economy. It is solely to benefit the trafficker, and it tends\nto evil, evil only, evil continually. If every man should act on this\nprinciple, society could not exist. If every man should choose an\nemployment that should _necessarily_ and _always_ interfere with the\npeace, and happiness, and morals of others, it would at once break up\nthe organization. If every manufacturer should erect a manufactory, as\nnumerous as our distilleries and dram-shops, that should necessarily\nblight every farm, and produce _sterility_ in its neighborhood, every\nfarmer would regard it as an unlawful employment; and if pursued, the\nbusiness of agriculture would end. If a physician could live only by\ndiffusing disease and death, who would regard his as a moral employment?\nif a mariner could pursue his business from this port to Calcutta or\nCanton, only by importing the plague in every return voyage, who would\ndeem it an honorable employment? If an apothecary could pursue his\nbusiness only by killing nine persons out of ten of those with whom he\nhad dealing, who would deem it a lawful business? If a man can get a\nliving in his employment only by fitting out a privateer and preying\nupon the peaceful commerce of the world, who will deem it a lawful\nemployment? If a man lives only to make a descent on the peaceful abodes\nof Africa, and to tear away parents from their weeping children, and\nhusbands from their wives and homes, where is the man that will deem\nthis a _moral_ business? And why not? Does he not act on the same\nprinciple as the man who deals in ardent spirits--a desire to make\nmoney, and that only? The truth is, that in all these cases there would\nbe a violation of the great fundamental law on which men must agree to\nlive together in society--a violation of that great, noble, and\nbenevolent law of our organization, by which an honest employment\ninterferes with no other, but may tend to diffuse blessings in the whole\ncircle of human engagements. And the traffic in ardent spirits is just\nas much a violation of this law, as in any of the cases specified.\n\n2. Every man is bound to pursue such a business as to _render a valuable\nconsideration_ for that which he receives from others. A man who\nreceives in trade the avails of the industry of others, is under\nobligation to restore that which will be of real value. He receives the\nfruit of toil; he receives that which is of value to himself; and common\nequity requires that he return a valuable consideration. Thus, the\nmerchant renders to the farmer, in exchange for the growth of his farm,\nthe productions of other climes; the manufacturer, that which is needful\nfor the clothing or comfort of the agriculturist; the physician, the\nresult of his professional skill. All these are valuable considerations,\nwhich are fair and honorable subjects of exchange. They are a mutual\naccommodation; they advance the interest of both parties. But it is not\nso with the dealer in ardent spirits. He obtains the property of his\nfellow-men, and what does he return? That which will tend to promote his\nreal welfare? That which will make him a happier man? That which will\nbenefit his family? That which diffuses learning and domestic comfort\naround his family circle? None of these things. He gives him that which\nwill produce poverty, and want, and cursing, and tears, and death. He\nasked an egg, and he receives a scorpion. He gives him that which is\nestablished and well known as a source of no good, but as tending to\nproduce beggary and wretchedness. Now, if this were practised in any\nother business, it would be open fraud. If in any way you could palm\nupon a farmer that which is not only _worthless_, but mischievous--that\nwhich would certainly tend to ruin him and his family, _could there be_\nany doubt about the nature of this employment? It makes no difference\nhere, that the man _supposes_ that it is for his good; or that he\napplies for it. _You know_ that it is _not_ for his benefit, and you\nknow--what is the only material point under this head--that it will tend\nto his ruin. Whatever _he_ may think about it, or whatever _he_ may\ndesire, you are well advised that it is an article that will tend to sap\nthe foundation of his morals and happiness, and conduce to the ruin of\nhis estate, and his body, and his soul; and you know, therefore, that\nyou are _not_ rendering him any really valuable consideration for his\nproperty. The dealer may look on his gains in this matter--on his\nhouses, or mortgages, or lands, obtained as the result of this\nbusiness--with something like these reflections.\n\n\"This property has been gained from other men. It was theirs, honestly\nacquired, and was necessary to promote their own happiness and the\nhappiness of their families. It has become mine by a traffic which has\nnot only taken it away from them, but which has ruined their peace,\ncorrupted their morals, sent woe and discord into their families, and\nconsigned them perhaps to an early and most loathsome grave. This\nproperty has come from the hard earnings of other men; has passed into\nmy hands without any valuable compensation rendered; but has been\nobtained only while I have been diffusing want, and woe, and death,\nthrough their abodes.\"\n\nLet the men engaged in this traffic look on their property thus gained;\nlet them survey the woe which has attended it; and then ask, as honest\nmen, whether it is a moral employment.\n\n3. A man is bound to pursue such a business as shall tend to _promote\nthe welfare of the whole community_. This traffic does not. We have seen\nthat an honorable and lawful employment conduces to the welfare of the\nwhole social organization. But the welfare of the whole cannot be\npromoted by this traffic. _Somewhere_ it must produce poverty, and\nidleness, and crime. Even granting, what cannot be established, that it\nmay promote the happiness of a particular portion of the community, yet\nit must be at the expense of some other portion. You may export poison\nto Georgia, and the immediate effect may be to introduce money into\nPhiladelphia, but the only important inquiry is, what will be the effect\non the _whole body politic_? Will it do more good than evil on the\nwhole? Will the money which you may receive here, be a compensation for\nall the evil which will be done there? Money a compensation for\nintemperance, and idleness, and crime, and the loss of the health, the\nhappiness, and the souls of men?\n\nNow we may easily determine this matter. The article thus exported will\ndo as much evil _there_ as it would if consumed _here_. It will spread\njust as much devastation somewhere, as it would if consumed in your own\nfamily, and among your own friends and neighbors. We have only to ask,\nwhat would be the effect if it were consumed in your own habitation, in\nyour neighborhood, in your own city? Let all this poison, which is thus\nexported to spread woes and death somewhere, be concentrated and\nconsumed where you might see it, and is there any man who will pretend\nthat the paltry sum which he receives is a compensation for what he\nknows would be the effect of the consumption? You keep your own\natmosphere pure, it may be, but you export the pestilence, and curses,\nand lamentation elsewhere, and receive a compensation for it. You sell\ndisease, and death, and poverty, and nakedness, and tears to other\nfamilies, to clothe and feed your own. And as the result of this current\nof moral poison and pollution which you may cause to flow into hundreds\nof other families, you may point to a splendid palace, or to gay apparel\nof your sons and daughters, and proclaim that the evil is hidden from\nyour eyes. Families, and neighborhoods, and states, may groan and bleed\nsomewhere, and thousands may die, but _your_ gain is to be a\ncompensation for it all. Is this an honorable traffic?\n\nSuppose a man were to advertise consumptions, and fevers, and\npleurisies, and leprosy, for gold, and could and would sell them; what\nwould the community say to such a traffic? Suppose, for gain, he could\ntransport them to distant places, and now strike down by a secret power\na family in Maine, and now at St. Mary's, and now at Texas, and now at\nSt. Louis; what would the community think of wealth gained in such a\ntraffic? Suppose he could, with the same ease, diffuse profaneness, and\ninsanity, and robberies, and murders, and suicides, and should advertise\nall these to be propagated through the land, and could prevail on men to\nbuy the talismanic nostrum for gold--what would the community think of\nsuch a traffic as this? True, he might plead that it brought a vast\ninflux of money--that it enriched the city, or the country--that the\neffects were not seen there; but what would be the public estimate of a\nman who would be willing to engage in such a traffic, and who would set\nup such a plea? Or suppose it were understood that a farmer from the\ninterior had arrived in Philadelphia with a load of flour, nine-tenths\nof whose barrels contained a mixture, more or less, of arsenic, and\nshould offer them for sale; what would be the feelings of this community\nat such a traffic? True, the man might plead that it would produce gain\nto his country; that they had taken care to remove it to another\npopulation; that his own family was secure. Can any words express the\nindignation which would be felt? Can any thing express the horror which\nall men would feel at such a transaction as this, and at the\ncold-blooded and inhuman guilt of the money-loving farmer? And yet we\nwitness a thing like this every day, on our wharves, and in our ships,\nand our groceries, and our inns, and from our men of wealth, and our\nmoral men, and our _professed Christians_--and a horror comes through\nthe souls of men, when we dare to intimate that this is an immoral\nbusiness.\n\n4. A man is bound to pursue such a course of life as _not necessarily to\nincrease the burdens and the taxes_ of the community. The pauperism and\ncrimes of this land grow out of this vice, as an overflowing fountain.\nThree-fourths of the taxes for prisons, and houses of refuge, and\nalmshouses, would be cut off, but for this traffic and the attendant\nvices. Nine-tenths of the crimes of the country, and of the expenses of\nlitigation for crime, would be prevented by arresting it. Of 653 who\nwere in one year committed to the house of correction in Boston, 453\nwere drunkards. Of 3,000 persons admitted to the workhouse in Salem,\nMass., 2,900 were brought there directly or indirectly by intemperance.\nOf 592 male adults in the almshouse in New York, not 20, says the\nsuperintendent, can be called sober; and of 601 women, not as many as\n50. Only three instances of murder in the space of fifteen years, in New\nYork, occurred, that could not be traced to ardent spirit as the cause.\nIn Philadelphia, ten. This is the legitimate, regular effect of the\nbusiness. It tends to poverty, crime, and woe, and greatly to increase\nthe taxes and burdens of the community.\n\nWhat is done then in this traffic? You are filling our almshouses, and\njails, and penitentiaries, with victims loathsome and burdensome to the\ncommunity. You are engaged in a business which is compelling your\nfellow-citizens to pay taxes to support the victims of your employment.\nYou are filling up these abodes of wretchedness and guilt, and then\nasking your fellow-citizens to pay enormous taxes indirectly to support\nthis traffic. For, if every place where ardent spirits can be obtained,\nwere closed in this city and its suburbs, how long might your splendid\npalaces for the poor be almost untenanted piles; how soon would your\njails disgorge their inmates, and be no more filled; how soon would the\nhabitations of guilt and infamy in every city become the abodes of\ncontentment and peace; and how soon would reeling loathsomeness and want\ncease to assail your doors with importunate pleadings for charity.\n\nNow we have only to ask our fellow-citizens, what right they have to\npursue an employment tending thus to burden the community with taxes,\nand to endanger the dwellings of their fellow-men, and to send to my\ndoor, and to every other man's door, hordes of beggars loathsome to the\nsight; or to compel the virtuous to seek out their wives and children,\namidst the squalidness of poverty, and the cold of winter, and the\npinchings of hunger, to supply their wants? Could impartial justice be\ndone in the world, an end would soon be put to the traffic in ardent\nspirits. Were every man bound to alleviate all the wretchedness which\nhis business creates, to support all the poor which his traffic causes,\nan end would soon be made of this employment. But alas, you can diffuse\nthis poison for gain, and then call on your industrious and virtuous\ncountrymen to alleviate the wretchedness, to tax themselves to build\ngranite prisons for the inmates which your business has made; and\nsplendid palaces, at an enormous expense, to extend a shelter and a home\nfor those whom your employment has turned from their own habitations. Is\nthis a moral employment? Would it be well to obtain a living in this way\nin any other business?\n\n5. The business is _inconsistent with the law of God_, which requires\nus to love our neighbor as ourselves. A sufficient proof of this would\nbe a fact which no one could deny, that no man yet, probably, ever\nundertook the business, or pursued it from that motive. Its defence is\nnot, and cannot be put on that ground. No man in the community believes\nthat a continuance in it is required by a regard to the welfare of his\nneighbor. Every one knows that his welfare does not require it; and that\nit would be conferring an inestimable blessing on other men, if the\ntraffic was abandoned. The single, sole object is gain; and the sole\nquestion is, whether the love of gain is a sufficient motive for\ncontinuing that which works no good, but constant ill to your neighbor.\n\nThere is another law of God which has an important bearing on this\nsubject. It is that golden rule of the New Testament, which commends\nitself to the conscience of all men, to do to others as you would wish\nthem to do to you. You may easily conceive of your having a son, who was\nin danger of becoming a drunkard. Your hope might centre in him. He\nmight be the stay of your age. He may be inclined to dissipation; and it\nmay have required all your vigilance, and prayers, and tears, and\nauthority, to keep him in the ways of soberness. The simple question now\nis, what would you wish a neighbor to do in such a case? Would it be the\ndesire of your heart, that he should open a fountain of poison at your\nnext door; that he should, for gain, be willing to put a cup into the\nhands of your son, and entice him to the ways of intemperance? Would you\nbe pleased if he would listen to no remonstrance of yours, if he should\neven disregard your entreaties and your tears, and coolly see, for the\nlove of gold, ruin coming into your family, and your prop taken from\nbeneath you, and your gray hairs coming down with sorrow to the grave?\nAnd yet to many such a son may you sell the poison; to many a father\nwhose children are clothed in rags; to many a man whose wife sits\nweeping amidst poverty and want, and dreading to hear the tread and the\nvoice of the husband of her youth, once her protector, who now comes to\nconvert his own habitation into a hell. And there are not a few men of\nfair standing in society who are engaged in this; and not a few--O tell\nit not in Gath--who claim the honored name of Christian, and who profess\nto bear the image of Him who went about doing good. Can such be a\n_moral_ business?\n\n6. The traffic is _a violation of that law which requires a man to honor\nGod_. Whether ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory\nof God. And yet is this a business which was ever engaged in, or ever\npursued, with a desire to honor God? Is it an employment over which a\nman will pray? Can he ask the God of heaven to give him success? Let\nhim, then, in imagination, follow what he sells to its direct result;\nlet him attend it to its final distribution of poverty, and woes, and\ncrimes, and death, and then kneel before heaven's eternal King, and\nrender thanksgiving for this success? Alas, it cannot be. Man pursues it\nnot from a desire to honor God. And can the man who is engaged in a\nbusiness on which he cannot implore the blessing of heaven; who is\nobliged to conceal all thoughts of it if he ever prays; who never\nengaged in it with a desire to glorify God, or to meet his approbation,\ncan _he_ be engaged in a business which is lawful and right?\n\nI might dwell further on these points. But I am now prepared to ask,\nwith emphasis, whether an employment that has been attended with so many\nills to the bodies and souls of men; with so much woe and crime; whose\nresults are evil, and only evil continually; an employment which cannot\nbe pursued without tending to destroy the very purposes of the\norganization of society; without violating the rule which requires us to\nrender a valuable consideration in business; without violating the rule\nwhich requires a man to promote the welfare of the whole of the\ncommunity; which promotes pauperism and crime, and imposes heavy burdens\non your fellow-citizens; which is opposed equally to the love of man and\nthe law of God--_whether this is a moral, or an immoral employment?_\n\nThe question is submitted. If moral, it should be driven on with all the\npower of American energy; with all the aids of wealth, and all the might\nof steam, and all the facilities of railroads and canals; for our\ncountry and the church calls the man to the honorable employment. But if\nit be immoral and wrong, it should be abandoned on the spot. Not another\ngallon should ever pass from your store, if it be evil, only evil, and\nthat continually.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWe are prepared now to examine a few of the OBJECTIONS to this doctrine.\n\n1. The first is, that the traffic is not condemned in the Bible. To this\nthe answer is very obvious. The article was then unknown. Nor was it\nknown until 600 years after the Bible was completed. This mode of\nextending and perpetuating depravity in the world was not suggested by\nthe father of evil, until it was too late to make a formal law against\nit in the Bible, or to fortify the argument of human depravity from this\nsource. It is neither in the Bible, nor in any other code of laws, the\ncustom to specify crimes which do not exist. How remarkable in a code of\nlaws would have been such a declaration as the trafficker demands, \"Thou\nshalt not deal in ardent spirits,\" hundreds of years before the article\nwas known. The world would have stood in amazement, and would have been\nperplexed and confounded by an unmeaning statute. But further, it is not\nthe practice in the Bible, or in any other book of laws, to specify each\nshade and degree of wrong. Had it been, there could have been no end of\nlegislation, and no end to books of law. I ask the dealer in ardent\nspirits, where is there a formal prohibition of piracy, or bigamy, or\nkidnapping, or suicide, or duelling, or the sale of obscene books and\npaintings? And yet does any man doubt that these are immoral? Does he\nbelieve that the Bible will countenance them? Will he engage in them,\nbecause they are not specified formally, and with technical precision,\nin the Scriptures? The truth is, that the Bible has laid down great\nprinciples of conduct, which on all these subjects can be easily\napplied, which _are_ applied, and which, under the guidance of equal\nhonesty, may be as easily applied to the traffic of which I am speaking.\nStill further, the Bible _has_ forbidden it in principle, and with all\nthe precision which can be demanded. A man cannot pursue the business,\nas has been shown, without violating its great principles. He cannot do\njustly in it; he cannot show mercy by it; he cannot seek to alleviate\nhuman woes by it; he cannot do as he would wish to be done unto; he\ncannot pursue it to glorify God. The great principles of the Bible, the\nspirit of the Bible, and a thousand texts of the Bible are pointed\nagainst it; and every step the trafficker takes, he infringes on the\nspirit and bearing of some declaration of God. And still further, it is\n_his_ business to make out the propriety of the employment, not ours to\nmake out the case against him. Here is the rule--for him to judge. By\nthis he is to be tried; and unless he can find in the volume a rule that\nwill justify him in a business for gain that scatters inevitable woes\nand death; that accomplishes more destruction than all the chariots of\nwar and the desolations of gunpowder on the field of blood; that sends\nmore human beings to the grave, than fire, and flood, and pestilence,\nand famine, altogether; that heaps on human society more burdens than\nall other causes combined; that sends armies on armies, in a form more\nappalling, and infinitely more loathsome than Napoleon's \"food for\ncannon,\" to the grave: unless he can find some prophecy, or some\nprinciple, or some declaration, that will justify these, the Bible is\nagainst him, and he knows it. As well might he search for a principle to\nauthorize him to plant a Bohon Upas on every man's farm, and in the\nheart of every city and hamlet.\n\n2. A second plea is, \"If I do not do it, others will; the traffic will\ngo on.\" Then, I answer, _let_ others do it, and on them, not on you, be\nthe responsibility. But it is said, perhaps, if it is not in your\nhands--the hands of the respectable and the pious--it will be in the\nhands of the unprincipled and the profligate. I answer, THERE LET IT BE.\nThere, if anywhere, it should be. There, if these principles are\ncorrect, is its appropriate place. And if that were done, intemperance\nwould soon cease to curse the land. _It is just because it is upheld by\nthe rich, and the reputable, and by professed Christians, that the\nreform drags so heavily._ The business has never found its proper level.\nAnd O that the dealers in it would kindly forego this plea of\nbenevolence, and feel themselves released from this obligation. But is\nthis a correct principle of conduct? Is this the rule which heaven has\ngiven, or which conscience gives, to direct the doings of man? Have I a\nright to do all which I know other men will do? Other men will commit\nmurder. Have I a right to do it? Other men will commit adultery. Have I\na right to do it? Other men will curse, and swear, and steal. Have you a\nright to do it? Other men will prey on unoffending Africa, and bear\nhuman sinews across the ocean to be sold. Have you a right to do it? The\ntraffic in human flesh will go on; ships will be fitted out from\nAmerican ports; and American hands will bear a part of the price of the\ntears and groans of enslaved men. And why should not you participate\nwith them, on the same principle?\n\n3. A third excuse is, that the traffic is the source of gain to the\ncountry. Now this is known to be not so. More than 100,000,000 of\ndollars would be necessary to repair to this land the annual loss in\nthis business. Is it no loss that 300,000 men are drunkards, and are the\nslaves of indolence and want? Is it no loss to the nation that 30,000\neach year go to the grave? Is there no loss in the expense of supporting\n75,000 criminals, and nine-tenths of the paupers in the land? Is it no\nloss that bad debts are made, and men are made unable and unwilling to\npay their debts? Whence are _your_ bad debts? Whence, but directly or\nindirectly from this business? From the indolence, and want of\nprinciple, and want of attention, which intemperance produces?\n\n4. The man who is engaged in this business says, perhaps, \"I have\ninherited it, and it is the source of my gain; and what shall I do?\" I\nanswer, beg, dig--do any thing _but_ this. It would be a glorious\nmartyrdom _to starve_, contrasted with obtaining a livelihood by such an\nemployment. In this land, assuredly, men cannot plead that there are no\nhonorable sources of livelihood open before them. Besides, from whom do\nwe hear this plea? As often as otherwise from the man that rolls in\nwealth; that lives in a palace; that clothes his family in the attire of\nprinces and of courts; and that moves in the circles of fashion and\nsplendor. O how cheering is _consistent_ pleading; how lovely the\nexpressions of perfect honesty! This business may be abandoned without\ndifficulty. The only question is, whether the love of man, and the\ndictates of conscience, and the fear of God, shall prevail over the love\nof that polluted gold which this traffic in the lives and souls of men\nshall introduce into your dwelling.\n\nDuring a warmly contested election in the city of New York, it is stated\nin the daily papers that numerous applications were made for _pistols_\nto those who kept them for sale. It is added that the application was\nextensively denied, on the ground of the apprehension that they were\nintended for bloodshed in the excitement of the contest. This was a\nnoble instance of principle. But on the plea of the dealer in ardent\nspirits, why should they have been withheld? The dealer in fire-arms\nmight have plead as the trafficker in poison does: \"This is my business.\nI obtain a livelihood by it. _I am not responsible for what will be done\nwith the fire-arms._ True, the people are agitated. I have every reason\nto believe that application is made with a purpose to take life. True,\nblood may flow and useful lives may be lost. But _I_ am not responsible.\nIf they take life, they are answerable. The excitement is a favorable\nopportunity to dispose of my stock on hand, and it is a part of my\nbusiness to avail myself of all favorable circumstances in the community\nto make money.\" Who would not have been struck with the cold-blooded and\ninhuman avarice of such a man? And yet there was not _half_ the moral\ncertainty that those fire-arms would have been used for purposes of\nblood, that there is that ardent spirits will be employed to produce\ncrime, and poverty, and death.\n\nI have no time to notice other objections. Nor need I. I have stated the\n_principle_ of all. I just add here, that the excuses which are set up\nfor this traffic will apply just as well to any other business as this,\nand will fully vindicate any other employment, if they are to be\nsustained. Apply these excuses to the case of a bookseller. The question\nmight be suggested, whether it was a moral or an immoral business to\ndeal in infidel, profligate, and obscene pictures and books. True, it\nmight be alleged that they did evil, and only evil continually. It might\nbe said that neither the love of God or man would prompt to it. He might\nbe pointed to the fact, that they _always_ tended to corrupt the morals\nof youth; to blight the hopes of parents; to fill up houses of infamy;\nto blot out the hopes of heaven; and to sink men to hell. But then he\nmight with commendable coolness add, \"This traffic is not condemned in\nthe Bible. If _I_ do not engage in it, others will. It contributes to my\nlivelihood; to the support of the press; to the promotion of business;\nand I am not responsible for _their_ reading the books, nor for their\ndesire for them. I am pursuing the way in which my fathers walked before\nme, and it is _my living, and I will do it_.\" Wherein does this plea\ndiffer from that of the trafficker in ardent spirits? Alas, we have\nlearned how to estimate its force in regard to other sins; but we shrink\nfrom its application in regard to this wide-spread business, that\nemploys so much of the time and the wealth of the people of this land.\n\nHere I close. The path of duty and of safety is plain. These evils may\nbe corrected. A virtuous and an independent people may rise in their\nmajesty and correct them all. I call on all whom I now address, to exert\ntheir influence in this cause; to abandon all connection with the\ntraffic; and to become the firm, and warm, and thorough-going advocates\nof the temperance reformation. Your country calls you to it. Every man\nwho loves her welfare, should pursue no half-way measures; should tread\nno vacillating course in this great and glorious reformation.\n\nBut more especially may I call on _young men_, and ask _their_ patronage\nin this cause. For they are in danger; and they are the source of our\nhopes, and they are our strength. I appeal to them by their hopes of\nhappiness; by their prospects of long life; by their desire of property\nand health; by their wish for reputation; and by the fact that by\nabstinence, strict abstinence alone, are they safe from the crimes, and\nloathsomeness, and grave of the drunkard. Young men, I beseech you to\nregard the liberties of your country; the purity of the churches; your\nown usefulness; and the honor of your family--the feelings of a father,\na mother, and a sister. And I conjure you to take this stand by a\nreference to your own immortal welfare; by a regard to that heaven which\na drunkard enters not--and by a fear of that hell which is his own\nappropriate, eternal home.\n\nAgain I appeal to my fellow professing Christians; the ministers of\nreligion, the officers and members of the pure church of God. The pulpit\nshould speak, in tones deep, and solemn, and constant, and reverberating\nthrough the land. The watchmen should see eye to eye. Of every officer\nand member of a church it should be known where he may be found. We want\nno vacillating counsels; no time-serving apologies; no coldness, no\nreluctance, no shrinking back in this cause. Every church of Christ, the\nworld over, should be, in very deed, an organization of pure temperance\nunder the headship and patronage of Jesus Christ, the friend and the\nmodel of purity. Members of the church of God most pure, bear it in\nmind, that intemperance in our land, and the world over, stands in the\nway of the Gospel. It opposes the progress of the reign of Christ in\nevery village and hamlet; in every city; and at every corner of the\nstreet. It stands in the way of revivals of religion, and of the glories\nof the millennial morn. Every drunkard opposes the millennium; every\ndram-drinker stands in the way of it; every dram-seller stands in the\nway of it. Let the sentiment be heard, and echoed, and reechoed, all\nalong the hills, and vales, and streams of the land, _that the\nconversion of a man who habitually uses ardent spirits is all but\nhopeless_. And let this sentiment be followed up with that other\nmelancholy truth, that the money wasted in this business--now a curse to\nall nations--nay, the money wasted in one year in this land for it,\nwould place a Bible in every family on the earth, and establish a school\nin every village; and that the talent which intemperance consigns each\nyear to infamy and eternal perdition, would be sufficient to bear the\nGospel over sea and land--to polar snows, and to the sands of a burning\nsun. The pulpit must speak out. And the press must speak. And you,\nfellow-Christians, are summoned by the God of purity to take your stand,\nand cause your influence to be felt.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FOOLS' PENCE.\n\n[Illustration: Gin-shop]\n\n\nHave you ever seen a London gin-shop? There is perhaps no statelier shop\nin the magnificent chief city of England. No expense seems to be spared\nin the building and the furnishing of a gin-shop.\n\nNot many years ago a gin-shop was a mean-looking, and by no means a\nspacious place, with a few small bottles, not bigger than a doctor's\nlargest vials, in the dusty window. But now, however poor many of the\nworking classes may be, it seems to be their pleasure to squander their\nlittle remaining money upon a number of these palaces, as if they were\ndetermined that the persons whom they employ to sell them poison should\ndwell in the midst of luxury and splendor. I do not mean to say, that we\nhave a right to throw all the blame upon the master or the mistress of\na gin-shop. For my part, I should not like to keep one, and be obliged\nto get rich upon the money of the poor infatuated creatures who will\nruin both soul and body in gin-drinking; but the master of the gin-shop\nmay be heard to say, \"I don't force the people to drink; they will have\ngin, and if I do not sell to them somebody else will.\" The story of \"The\nFools' Pence,\" which follows, is worth attending to.\n\n    A little mean-looking man sat talking to Mrs. Crowder, the\n    mistress of the Punch-bowl: \"Why, Mrs. Crowder,\" said he, \"I\n    should hardly know you again. Really, I must say you have\n    things in the first style. What an elegant paper; what noble\n    chairs; what a pair of fire-screens; all so bright and so\n    fresh; and yourself so well, and looking so well!\"\n\n    Mrs. Crowder had dropped languidly into an arm-chair, and sat\n    sighing and smiling with affectation, not turning a deaf ear\n    to her visitor, but taking in with her eyes a full view of\n    what passed in the shop; having drawn aside the curtain of\n    rose-colored silk, which sometimes covered the window in the\n    wall between the shop and the parlor.\n\n    \"Why, you see, Mr. Berriman,\" she replied, \"our business is a\n    thriving one, and we don't love to neglect it, for one must\n    work hard for an honest livelihood; and then you see, my two\n    girls, Letitia and Lucy, were about to leave their\n    boarding-school; so Mr. Crowder and I wished to make the old\n    place as genteel and fashionable as we could; and what with\n    new stone copings to the windows, and new French\n    window-frames to the first floor, and a little paint, and a\n    little papering, Mr. Berriman, we begin to look tolerable. I\n    must say too, Mr. Crowder has laid out a deal of money in\n    fitting up the shop, and in filling his cellars.\"\n\n    \"Well, ma'am,\" continued Mr. Berriman, \"I don't know where\n    you find the needful for all these improvements. For my part,\n    I can only say, our trade seems quite at a stand-still.\n    There's my wife always begging for money to pay for this or\n    that little necessary article, but I part from every penny\n    with a pang. Dear Mrs. Crowder, how do you manage?\"\n\n    Mrs. Crowder simpered, and raising her eyes, and looking\n    with a glance of smiling contempt towards the crowd of\n    customers in the shop, \"The fools' pence--'tis THE FOOLS'\n    PENCE that does it for us,\" she said.\n\n    Perhaps it was owing to the door being just then opened and\n    left ajar by Miss Lucy, who had been serving in the bar, that\n    the words of Mrs. Crowder were heard by a man named George\n    Manly, who stood at the upper end of the counter. He turned\n    his eyes upon the customers who were standing near him, and\n    saw pale, sunken cheeks, inflamed eyes, and ragged garments.\n    He turned them upon the stately apartment in which they were\n    assembled; he saw that it had been fitted up at no trifling\n    cost; he stared through the partly open doorway into the\n    parlor, and saw looking-glasses, and pictures, and gilding,\n    and fine furniture, and a rich carpet, and Miss Lucy, in a\n    silk gown, sitting down to her piano-forte: and he thought\n    within himself, how strange it is, by what a curious process\n    it is, that all this wretchedness on my left hand is made to\n    turn into all this rich finery on my right!\n\n    \"Well, sir, and what's for you?\"\n\n    These words were spoken in the same shrill voice which had\n    made the \"fools' pence\" ring in his ears.\n\n    George Manly was still in deep thought, and with the end of\n    his rule--for he was a carpenter--he had been making a\n    calculation, drawing the figures in the little puddles of gin\n    upon the counter. He looked up and saw Mrs. Crowder herself\n    as gay as her daughters, with a cap and colored ribbons\n    flying off her head, and a pair of gold earrings almost\n    touching her plump shoulders. \"A glass of gin, ma'am, is what\n    I was waiting for to-night, but I think I've paid the last\n    '_fools' pence_' I shall put down on this counter for many a\n    long day.\"\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    George Manly hastened home. His wife and his two little girls\n    were sitting at work. They were thin and pale, really for\n    want of food. The room looked very cheerless, and their fire\n    was so small that its warmth was scarcely felt; yet the\n    commonest observer must have been struck by the neatness and\n    cleanliness of the apartment and every thing about it.\n\n    \"This is indeed a treat, girls, to have dear father home so\n    soon to-night,\" said Susan Manly, looking up at her husband\n    as he stood before the table, turning his eyes first upon one\n    and then upon another of the little party; then throwing\n    himself into a chair, and smiling, he said,\n\n    \"Well, children, a'n't you glad to see me? May not those busy\n    little fingers stop a moment, just while you jump up and\n    throw your arms about your father's neck, and kiss him?\"\n\n    \"O yes, we have time for that,\" said one of the girls, as\n    they both sprang up to kiss their father.\n\n    \"But we have no time to lose, dear father,\" said Sally,\n    pressing her cheek to his, and speaking in a kind of coaxing\n    whisper close to his ear, \"for these shirts are the last of\n    the dozen we have been making for Mr. Farley, in the\n    Corn-market.\"\n\n    \"And as no work can be done to-morrow,\" added Betsy gravely,\n    who stood with her little hand in her father's, \"we are all\n    working as hard as we can; for mother has promised to take\n    them home on Monday afternoon.\"\n\n    \"Either your eyes are very weak to-night, dear wife,\" said\n    George, \"or you have been crying. I'm afraid you work too\n    hard by candlelight.\"\n\n    Susan smiled, and said, \"_Working_ does not hurt my eyes,\"\n    and as she spoke, she turned her head and beckoned with her\n    finger to her little boy.\n\n    \"Why, John, what's this that I see?\" said his father. \"What,\n    you in the corner! Come out, and tell me what you have been\n    doing.\"\n\n    \"Nay, never mind it, dear husband; John will be very good, I\n    hope, and we had better say no more about what is past.\"\n\n    \"Yes, but I must know,\" said he, drawing John close to him.\n    \"Come, tell me what has been the matter.\"\n\n    John was a plain-spoken boy, and had a straight-forward way\n    of speaking the truth. He came up to his father, and looked\n    full in his face, and said, \"The baker came for his money\n    to-night, and would not leave the loaves without mother paid\n    for them; and though he was cross and rough to mother, he\n    said it was not her fault, and that he was sure you had been\n    drinking away all the money; and when he was gone, mother\n    cried over her work, but she did not say any thing. I did not\n    know she was crying, till I saw her tears fall, drop, drop,\n    on her hands; and then I said bad words, and mother sent me\n    to stand in the corner.\"\n\n    \"And now, John, you may bring me some coal,\" said Susan;\n    \"there's a fine lump in the coal-box.\"\n\n    \"But first tell me what your bad words were, John,\" said his\n    father; \"not swearing, I hope?\"\n\n    \"No,\" said John, coloring, but speaking as bluntly as before,\n    \"I said that you were a bad man. I said, bad father.\"\n\n    \"And they were bad words, I am sure,\" said Susan, very\n    calmly; \"but you are forgiven, and so you may get me the\n    coal.\"\n\n    George looked at the face of his wife, and as he met the\n    tender gaze of her mild eyes now turned to him, he felt the\n    tears rise in his own. He rose up, and as he put the money\n    into his wife's hands, he said, \"There are my week's wages.\n    Come, come, hold out both hands, for you have not got all\n    yet. Well, now you have every farthing. Keep the whole, and\n    lay it out to the best advantage, as you always do. I hope\n    this will be a beginning of better doings on my part, and\n    happier days on yours; and now put on your bonnet, and I'll\n    walk with you to pay the baker, and buy a bushel or two of\n    coal, or any thing else you may be in want of; and when we\n    come back I'll read a chapter of the Bible to you and the\n    girls, while you get on with the needle-work.\"\n\n    Susan went up stairs to put on her bonnet and shawl, and she\n    remained a little longer, to kneel down on the spot where she\n    had often knelt almost heart-broken in prayer--prayer that\n    her heavenly Father would turn her husband's heart, first to\n    his Saviour, and then to his wife and children; and that, in\n    the meantime, he would give her patience. She, knelt down\n    this time to pour out her heart in thanksgiving and praise.\n    The pleasant tones of her husband's voice called her from her\n    knees.\n\n    George Manly told his wife that evening, after the children\n    were gone to bed, that when he saw what the pence of the poor\n    could do towards keeping up a fine house, and dressing out\n    the landlord's wife and daughters; and when he thought of his\n    own hard-working, uncomplaining Susan, and his children in\n    want, and almost in rags, while he was sitting drinking, and\n    drinking, night after night, more like a beast than a man,\n    destroying his own manly strength, and the fine health God\n    had given him, he was so struck with sorrow and shame, that\n    he seemed to come to himself at last. He made his\n    determination, from that hour, never again to put the\n    intoxicating glass to his lips, and he hoped he made it in\n    dependence upon God for grace and strength to keep it.\n\n    It was more than a year after Mrs. Crowder, of the\n    Punch-bowl, had first missed a regular customer from her\n    house, and when she had forgotten to express her wonder as to\n    what could have become of the good-looking carpenter that\n    generally spent his earnings there, and drank and spent his\n    money so freely--\n\n    \"There, get on as fast as you can, dears; run, girls, and\n    don't stop for me, your beautiful dresses will be quite\n    spoilt; never mind me, for my levantine is a French silk, and\n    won't spot.\"\n\n    These words were screamed out as loud as her haste would\n    permit, by Mrs. Crowder, who was accompanying her daughters,\n    one Sunday evening, to the tea-gardens.\n\n    She was answered by Miss Lucy, \"You know, ma, we can't run,\n    for our shoes are so tight.\"\n\n    \"Then turn into one of these houses, dears,\" said the mother,\n    who was bustling forward as fast as she could.\n\n    \"No, indeed,\" replied the other daughter, who found time to\n    curl her lip with disdain, notwithstanding her haste and her\n    distress, \"I'll not set a foot in such filthy hovels.\"\n\n    \"Well, dears, here is a comfortable, tidy place,\" cried the\n    mother at length, as they hastened forward; \"here I'll enter,\n    nor will I stir till the rain is over; come in, girls, come\n    in. You might eat off these boards, they are so clean.\"\n\n    The rain was now coming down in torrents, and the two young\n    ladies gladly followed their mother's example, and entered\n    the neat and cleanly dwelling. Their long hair hung dangling\n    about their ears, their crape bonnets had been screened in\n    vain by their fringed parasols, and the skirts of their silk\n    gowns were draggled with mud. They all three began to stamp\n    upon the door of the room into which they had entered with\n    very little ceremony; but the good-natured mistress of the\n    house felt more for their disaster than for her floor, and\n    came forward at once to console and assist them. She brought\n    forth clean cloths from the dresser-drawer, and she and her\n    two daughters set to work to wipe off, with quick and\n    delicate care, the rain-drops and mud-splashes from the\n    silken dresses of the three fine ladies. The crape hats and\n    the parasols were carefully dried at a safe distance from the\n    fire, and a comb was offered to arrange the uncurled hair,\n    such a white and delicately clean comb as may seldom be seen\n    upon a poor woman's toilet.\n\n    When all had been done that could be done, and, as Miss Lucy\n    said, \"they began to look themselves again,\" Mrs. Crowder,\n    who was lolling back at her ease in a large and comfortable\n    arm-chair, and amusing herself by taking a good stare at\n    every thing and every one in the room, suddenly started\n    forward, and cried out, addressing herself to the master of\n    the house, upon whose Bible and at whose face she had been\n    last fixing her gaze, \"Why, my good man, we are old friends:\n    I know your face, I'm certain; still, there is some change in\n    you, though I can't exactly say what it is.\"\n\n    \"I used to be in ragged clothes, and out of health,\" said\n    George Manly, smiling, as he looked up from his Bible; \"I am\n    now, blessed be God for it, comfortably clad, and in\n    excellent health.\"\n\n    \"But how is it,\" said Mrs. Crowder, \"that we never catch a\n    sight of you now?\"\n\n    \"Madam,\" said be, \"I'm sure I wish well to you and all\n    people; nay, I have reason to thank you, for words of yours\n    were the first means of opening my eyes to my own foolish and\n    sinful course. You seem to thrive--so do we. My wife and\n    children were half-naked and half-starved only this time last\n    year. Look at them, if you please, now; for, so far as sweet,\n    contented looks go, and decent raiment befitting their\n    station, I'll match them with any man's wife and children.\n    And now, madam, I tell you, as you told a friend of yours one\n    day last year, that ''tis the FOOLS' PENCE which have done\n    all this for us.' The fools' pence! I ought to say, the pence\n    earned by honest industry, and spent in such a manner that I\n    can ask the blessing of God upon the pence.\"\n\n    When Mrs. Crowder and her daughters were gone, George Manly\n    sat without speaking for some considerable time. He was deep\n    in thought, and his gentle, pious wife felt that she knew on\n    what subject he had been thinking so deeply; for when he woke\n    up from his fit of thought, a deep sigh stole from his lips,\n    and he brushed away the tears which had filled his eyes.\n\n    \"Susan,\" he said, \"what can I render to the Lord for all his\n    goodness to me? From what a fearful depth of ruin have I been\n    snatched! Once I met some of my old companions, who so set\n    upon me to draw me to drink with them, that I thought Satan\n    must have urged them on. Another time, I went walking on, and\n    found myself at the door of the poison-shop, without knowing\n    how I got there; but God gave me strength to turn instantly\n    away, and not linger a moment to daily with temptation.\n\n    \"I could not help thinking, as I was reading this holy book,\n    when that showy dame came in from whose hand I so often took\n    the poisonous cup, how much I owed to God for saving me from\n    ruin, and giving me that peace and satisfaction in religion\n    which I now enjoy; and making me, I hope, a blessing to you\n    all. O, what a love was the love of Christ to poor sinners!\n    He gave his own blood as our precious ransom; he came to save\n    us from our sins, that we may serve him in newness of life.\"\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe above history, which is taken from a Tract of the Religious Tract\nSociety in London, has its counterpart in the case of multitudes in our\nown country. Let him who would not shorten his days, and make his family\nwretched, and ruin his own soul, resolve with George Manly, \"_never\nagain to put the intoxicating glass to his lips_;\" and like him, let him\ngo humbly and with childlike confidence to God for strength to keep his\nresolution, and for grace to pardon all his sins, through the blood and\nrighteousness of Christ. Then shall he have peace of mind, and be a\nblessing in his day; and when this brief life is ended, he shall enter\ninto eternal joy.\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE WRETCHED MADE HAPPY.\n\nA NARRATIVE OF FACTS.\n\n[Illustration: Violent drunk with wife and child]\n\n\nFor fifteen years of my married life I was as miserable as any woman\ncould be. Our house was the picture of wretchedness externally, and it\nlooked still more wretched within. The windows were patched, the walls\nshattered, the furniture defaced and broken, and every thing was going\nto ruins.\n\nIt had not always been so: once my home was happy, and I used to take\nmuch pleasure and some pride in hearing the neighbors say, \"How neat and\ntrim neighbor N----'s house always looks!\" But they could not say so\nlong. One thing after another changed. Our table was no longer spread\nwith comfortable food, nor surrounded with cheerful faces; but there\nwere scanty meals, sour looks, and loud and angry words; while, do the\nbest I could, I was not able to conceal the tatters of my own and my\nchildren's clothing. My husband is a mechanic; his employment is good,\nand he might have made his family as happy as any family in the place;\nbut he was in the habit of taking ardent spirit every day. _He_ thought\nit did him good; _I_ knew it did not, for I found him every day more and\nmore unkind. Our comforts, one by one, were stripped away, till at last\nI saw myself the wife of a confirmed drunkard.\n\nI well remember, one evening, I was sitting by the fire, mending my poor\nboy's tattered jacket. My heart was very sad. I had been thinking of the\nhappy evenings I had spent with my husband before our marriage; of the\nfew pleasant years that succeeded; of the misery that then came; of the\nmisery yet to come; and for me there seemed no ray of hope or comfort.\nMy husband was a terror to his family, and a nuisance to the\nneighborhood; my children were idle, ragged, and disobedient; myself a\nheart-broken wife and wretched mother. While I thought of all this, I\ncould no longer retain my composure, but, dropping my work, I leaned my\nhead upon my hand and wept bitterly. My husband had been absent all day,\nand I was now expecting him home every minute. It was growing late, so I\nwiped away my tears as well as I could, and put the embers together, to\nmake my fireside look as inviting as possible. But I dreaded my\nhusband's return--his sharp voice and bitter words pained me to the\nheart, and rougher treatment than all this I often experienced from him\nwho had once been to me all that I could wish.\n\nAt length the door opened, and Robert entered. I saw by his flushed\ncountenance and angry expression that I had better remain silent; so,\nwith a sinking heart, I placed a chair for him by the fire, and\ncontinued my work without speaking.\n\nRobert broke silence, and in a sharp tone said, \"What on earth do you\nsit there for, at work on that dirty rag? Why don't you give me\nsomething to eat?\" and snatching the work roughly from my hands, he\nthrew it into the fire. I sprang forward to rescue my poor child's\ngarment, and so quick were my movements, that I saved it from much\ninjury. But while I was shaking the ashes from it, my husband again\nsnatched it from my hands, and with a terrible oath, defying me to touch\nit, once more threw it into the fire. I was afraid to attempt to save\nit; so I turned away, with bitter feelings to see my labor all lost, and\nmy destitute child made still more destitute by its father's hand. But,\nas patiently and kindly as I could, I set before Robert the supper I had\nprepared for him. It did not look very inviting, to be sure; but I could\noffer nothing more. He swore he would not taste a particle. I now\nreproached him for not having provided any thing better for myself and\nchildren. But this was no time for reproach. Robert's anger rose to the\nhighest pitch. He dashed the cup and plate I had placed for him to the\nfloor, and seizing me roughly by the arm, he opened the door, and\nforcing me from the dwelling, bid me enter again, if I dared. The night\nwas cold and windy. I was thinly dressed, and even ill. But I forbore to\ntake refuge under a neighbor's roof. My heart was too sad and desolate\nto admit of human consolation. At this sorrowful moment I remembered\nthat\n\n    \"Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal;\"\n\nso, falling almost unconsciously upon my knees, I prayed that God would\ncomfort my stricken heart; that my sins might be pardoned; that I might\nbe enabled to repose all my griefs in the bosom of that gracious One who\nhas kindly promised to give the heavy-laden rest. I then prayed for my\nmiserable husband, that God would have mercy upon him, and deliver him\nfrom his dreadful delusion before it was too late. I prayed, too, for my\npoor children, with all the fervor of a mother's soul. This was the\nfirst prayer I had offered for years; for I had been an impenitent\nwoman. Had I prayed sooner, I might have saved myself much sorrow and\ndistress. But as it was, I arose from my knees with feelings far less\nhopeless and bitter. I then crept back to the house, and on looking in\nat the window, I found that Robert had fallen asleep; so I opened the\ndoor quietly, without disturbing his heavy slumbers, and laid myself\ndown to rest.\n\nThe events of this evening were no uncommon events to me. Each\nsucceeding day brought but the same rough treatment, the same\nwretchedness and want. Robert grew worse and worse. He not only\ndestroyed all our peace, but brought noise and discord into the whole\nneighborhood, till at last, for the sake of quiet, he was taken to the\nhouse of correction. I never can forget that dreadful night when he was\ncarried away. He came home shockingly intoxicated. The little children\ncrept into the farthest corner of the house to shield themselves from\nhis fury. He threatened every thing with destruction. I was in danger of\nmy life, and ran for safety into the nearest house, where a poor widow\nlived. Robert followed--we fastened the door--he swore he would set fire\nto the building, and burn it over our heads. But some one passing by\nheard the uproar, and went for the town officers. Several of them came,\njust as my infatuated husband was pelting the window with stones. They\ntook him away by force, while he was uttering the most shocking oaths. I\nsat down and wept with shame and vexation. My little Jane put her arm\nround my neck, and said, \"Don't cry, ma--he has gone--wicked pa has\ngone, and I hope he will never come back--he is so cross, and beats us\nso.\" I hardly knew what to say in answer to my little girl, but I felt\nthat it was a dreadful thing to have my children speak so of him whom I\nwould gladly have taught them to love and honor.\n\nI determined, now my husband was away, to support my family by my own\nwork; for wretched as my home was, I could not bear to leave it and come\nupon the town. I could not earn much, for my health was feeble, but I\nmanaged, by depriving myself of several meals, to save enough to mend my\npoor neighbor's window.\n\nBut Robert longed to regain his liberty. He resolved that he would do\nbetter, and upon promising orderly conduct, was permitted to return to\nhis family. Badly as he had treated me, I was glad to see him back\nagain. He looked humble, and spoke to me kindly. He kissed the younger\nchildren, too, and for a while every thing went on smoothly. To me it\nseemed like the dawning of better days, and when Robert one evening\nbrought home some new shoes for our oldest boy, and a new gown for my\nlittle Jane, I actually wept for joy, and Jane said, her \"wicked pa had\ncome back very good.\"\n\nBut these bright days were not to last. Darker ones came, darker than I\nhad ever known before, or perhaps they seemed darker, from the transient\nsunshine that had gleamed upon us. I again heard my children crying for\nfood, when I had no food to give them. I was again often turned from my\ndwelling, or, if I offered any resistance, was forced to receive harsh\nwords and cruel blows. But it is in vain to tell all I suffered. Many\nhave gone through the same fiery trial, and will feel that a recital of\nmy woes is but a recital of what they too have borne.\n\nThere was one privilege, the want of which I at this time felt deeply.\nThe village church was within sight of our door. I used to hear the bell\nring, and see the children of the neighborhood go by, neatly dressed, to\nthe Sabbath-school; but I had no gown, nor bonnet, nor shawl fit to\nwear, and my children were still more destitute than myself. So we were\nobliged to spend the Sabbath in sadness at home, while Robert, if the\nday was fine, would profane it by going on the water to fish, or would\nlinger with his companions round the door of the grogshop--not to enter,\nit is true; for the dram-seller, with his wife and children, dressed\nvery fine, and were accustomed to attend church; and but for that\ndreadful shop, I might have gone there too.\n\nOur minister was one of those who thought it his duty to \"reason on\ntemperance,\" as well as \"righteousness,\" and \"judgment to come;\" and\nthrough his exertions, and the exertions of other good men, a reform\nhad commenced, which gave great encouragement to the friends of human\nhappiness and virtue. Temperance-meetings were held once a month in\ndifferent parts of the town, and in spite of much opposition, and many\nprophecies to the contrary, the cause went on.\n\nI heard much said about these meetings, and resolved to attend the next;\nso, when the evening came, I borrowed a cloak and bonnet of one of the\nneighbors, and hastened to the church. The prayers I there heard did my\nwounded spirit good, and the plain, impressive language of the minister\nspoke to my very heart. I resolved to persuade my husband, if possible,\nto go with me when there should be another meeting.\n\nA circumstance occurred about this time that quite destroyed my\nremaining courage, and almost caused me to give Robert up for lost. We\nlived in a small, shabby-looking house, a part of which he rented to a\nvery poor family. They could not pay the rent immediately upon its being\ndue. It was in the depth of winter, and the poor woman had a little\ninfant, not more than two weeks old. But Robert's heart was shut to all\nkind feelings. One very stormy day he drove the whole family out of\ndoors, and they were obliged to seek some other dwelling. It was too\nmuch for the poor woman in her feeble state. She caught a severe cold,\nand died in a few days. After this heartless act, my faiths quite failed\nme, and I felt as if nothing could recall my husband to a sense of duty.\nBut I little knew the workings of his mind. He seemed to return a little\nto his senses, when he saw that his cruelty had probably caused the\ndeath of the poor woman, and rendered a large family of helpless\nchildren motherless. His countenance became more dark and gloomy, and he\nscarcely raised his eyes to notice any one.\n\nThings were in this state, when one day our minister called, as he was\nvisiting the people of his parish. I was very glad to see him, and told\nhim all my griefs freely. He gave me what consolation he could, and\ninformed me that there was another temperance-meeting in the evening,\nwhich he hoped I would attend; \"and,\" added he, \"bring your husband\nalong with you, if you can persuade him to come.\"\n\nWhen Robert came home to supper, I was surprised and delighted to find\nhim sober; so I told him of the minister's visit, and the meeting in the\nevening. He seemed pleased that the minister had called, and even asked\nme how things looked about the room, \"for,\" said he, \"we don't look\nquite so stylish here as we once did, Mary.\"\n\n\"No, Robert,\" said I, with a sigh, as I surveyed the wretched apartment;\n\"but if you would attend the temperance-meeting, and hear what the\nminister says about saving money, I think it would soon look much better\nhere, and the boys might have better jackets, and I might have a better\ngown. Oh, Robert\"--\n\nI would have said more, but my eyes filled with tears, and I could not.\nRobert hung down his head, and looked ashamed. He knew he had spent, for\nrum, money enough to feed and clothe his family well. I thought he had\nhalf a mind to tell me he would go with me. When I had cleared away the\nsupper, and sent the children to bed, I put on my bonnet, and said, \"I\nwill just step into neighbor Warren's, and borrow Nancy's cloak.\"\n\n\"Have not you any cloak of your own?\" said he.\n\n\"No,\" I replied, \"I have been without one a long time.\"\n\nRobert said no more, but when I came back with the cloak, and said to\nhim, \"Will you go with me?\" he said, in a tone which seemed as if he\nwere trying to suppress kinder feelings, \"Go along, Mary, and don't be\nalways fretting about me.\" I was grieved, but said nothing, and\nproceeded to the meeting alone, praying that Robert might think better\nof it, and come. The services were even more interesting than they had\nbeen at the preceding meeting. The minister said every thing to\nconvince, and I felt a distressing anxiety, that I could not control, to\nhave my husband hear all that was said. Judge, then, of my surprise and\npleasure, when, a short time after I had returned home, Robert entered,\nand said, \"Guess where I have been, Mary.\"\n\n\"Not to meeting, Robert.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mary, to meeting. I took up my hat after you had gone, thinking\nthat I would go down to the shop; for I felt uneasy, and wanted\nsomething to suppress my disagreeable thoughts. But as I passed by the\nmeeting-house, it was so well lighted up, and the bell was ringing, and\nthe people going in, I thought perhaps I had better go in too; and I am\nglad I did. Wife, I do believe the minister is right. I know that hard\ndrinking has been the ruin of myself and family, and while the minister\nwas speaking, I thought I would try to break away from my bad habits.\"\n\n\"O, Robert, _will you try_?\" I exclaimed, while my heart beat with\npleasure to hear him thus speak.\n\n\"'Tis hard work, Mary, harder than you think for.\"\n\n\"I know it is hard, my dear husband; but only think of the happiness it\nwould bring to us all--of the ruin from which it will save our little\nboys--the agony from which it will save your poor wife. O, Robert, if\nyou have one spark of love remaining in your bosom for any of us\"--\n\nI could not go on; but leaning my hands upon my husband's shoulder, I\nsobbed aloud.\n\nRobert seemed affected, and said, in a doubtful tone, \"Perhaps I might\nleave it off by degrees.\"\n\n\"O no, Robert, no,\" I answered, \"that will never do. Don't you remember\nhow particular the minister was to say, '_Leave it off at once_?' You\nwill never do it by degrees.\"\n\nRobert looked steadily into the fire, and did not say one word more.\nWhen not under the influence of strong drink, he is a man of good sense,\nand I thought it better to leave him to his own reflections. I know not\nwhat passed through his mind. The kinder and better feelings of other\ndays seemed to be awakened from their slumber, or rather, He from whom\n\"all just thoughts and holy desires proceed,\" was influencing his\ndetermination. As for myself, I longed in secret to pour out my soul to\nGod. So I went into the bedroom, where my poor children were fast\nasleep; and after seeing that they were well covered up, I kissed each\none of them, and knelt down by their side to offer up my prayer. I\nprayed as I had never done before. I seemed, through my Redeemer, to\ngain a nearer and bolder access to the throne of grace. My heart was\nfilled with deep gratitude, penitence, humility, and joy; and from that\nhour I have dared to hope myself a child of God. O that blessed, blessed\nnight. It caused joy among the angels in heaven, over the reconciliation\nof one soul to God--over the desire of another soul to return to the\npath of duty. It caused joy on earth, in our poor, humble dwelling--joy\nin the bosom of the long-afflicted wife--joy that her own soul was\ntrusting in Christ--joy that her husband was purposing to forsake his\nwretched way, and turn into a happier, better path.\n\nThe next day, before Robert went out, I encouraged him all I could to\npersevere. I brought to his remembrance as much of the lecture as I\ncould, so that it might be fresh in his mind. He left me in good\nspirits, and promised to see me again at night a sober man. But O, what\nan anxious day was it for me! I dreaded, and yet longed for evening to\ncome, and my heart beat as I heard his footstep at the door. But he had\nkept his word--he had not tasted a drop of spirit during the day. He had\nseen, too, the minister and several members of the Temperance Society.\nIn consequence of the meeting on the last evening, many new names were\nadded to the temperance list, and they had promised, in case of entire\nabstinence till the next meeting, to receive his. I could scarcely\nbelieve my senses when I heard my husband speak thus, and the prospect\nof his becoming a sober man seemed too delightful to be ever realized.\nFor a time, I rejoiced with trembling; but when, day after day, I saw\nhim return orderly and quiet, my courage revived, and I felt that he\n_would persevere_.\n\nAt length the evening came round for the next meeting, and my husband\nand myself went, O so happy! and put our names to the pledge. What a\ndifferent prospect did our home now present. I could not keep my\ncountenance for joy, when the neighbors came in to congratulate me on\nthe change. I could now dress my children neat and comfortable, and send\nthem to the Sabbath-school. I went myself with my husband constantly to\nchurch, and on making known my wish to our minister, publicly professed\nmy faith in the Saviour of sinners. Thus happily did the winter and\nsummer pass away. One day in autumn, as the minister was passing by, my\nhusband was in the road in front of the house.\n\nThe minister remarked, \"I am glad, Robert, to see your _house repaired_\nand looking so well.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir; why, it does look some better.\" As the minister was\nabout to pass on, Robert added, \"Mr. G., I have not drank a drop of rum\nfor one year, come next Monday. So you see the effect upon my house. I\nused to work hard before, and spent about all I earned for rum, to drink\nmyself, or to give away. Many a time I have been at my work on a Sunday,\nand earned a dollar or more in the course of the day, and taken the\nmoney, and then laid out the whole in rum. Now I can clothe my family\nwell, and have something to lay out upon my house. Last summer, my boy\nand I saved sixty dollars besides supporting the family.\"\n\nSixty dollars saved! But who can tell the value of the happy days and\nnights of this year; or the worth of a kind, sober, industrious husband\nand father, compared with a cross, cruel, and drunken one? Ask the wife;\nwhat would she tell you? Ask the children; what would be their answer?\n\nSome of my husband's former wicked companions felt piqued and envious\nthat Robert was free from their degrading habit. They saw him thriving,\nrespected, and happy. His life and prospects were a continued reflection\nupon theirs. They longed to see him fall, and determined, if possible,\nto effect his ruin. As he was quietly returning home one evening, he\npassed by the shop which he was once so much in the habit of\nfrequenting. They accosted him: by taunts and jeers which he had not\nfirmness enough to resist, they drew him into their company. Once there,\nthey thought him within their power. When they could not induce him to\nviolate his pledge by taking rum, they called him a \"cold-water man;\"\n\"a white-livered coward;\" \"priest-ridden;\" \"afraid of his minister,\" and\nmany other titles of reproach. They then told him he had not promised to\ndrink no wine; and, after much persuasion, they induced him to take a\nglass. But in this glass they had mingled the poison. Once stimulated,\nhe called for more and yet more, till these wretches had the pleasure of\nseeing him who had so long stood firm, reeling from the shop, to mar at\nonce all that was pleasant and peaceful at home. When my husband did not\nreturn at supper-time, I felt rather anxious, but thought he might be\ndelayed, as he sometimes is; so I put his supper to the fire and sat\ndown to my knitting-work, while one of the boys read to me from his\nSabbath-school book.\n\nWe were thus employed when my deluded husband entered. O the agony of\nthat moment! Had he been brought to me a corpse, I could not have been\nmore shocked. Had those wicked men that thus seduced my husband entered\nmy house and done the same things that they caused him to do, they might\nhave been indicted for the outrage. In the morning Robert had come to\nhimself; but he saw in the broken furniture, in the distrustful looks of\nthe children, in the swollen eyes and distressed countenance of his\nwife, more than he cared to know. There was a mixture of remorse and\nobstinacy in his looks, and when he left me for the morning, instead of\nhis usual \"Good-morning, Mary,\" he shut the door roughly after him and\nhurried away.\n\nWhen evening came again, Robert returned to the shop, and asked for a\nglass of rum. He wanted something to stifle the keen reproaches of\nconscience. The dram-seller knew my husband, knew of his reform, that\nfrom being a nuisance to the town, he had become an orderly and\nrespectable citizen; and now that he had been seduced from the right\nway, instead of denying him the cause of all our former misery--instead\nof a little friendly advice--with his _usual courteous smile_, he put\nthe fatal glass into his hand.\n\nFor a time my poor Robert continued in a very bad way. He mingled again\nwith his profane and wicked associates; he was ashamed to see his\nminister, and took no notice of him when he passed; hung down his head\nwhen he met any of his temperance friends, and seemed to be fast\nreturning to his former miserable habits.\n\nBut he was not thus to become the dupe of wicked and designing men. His\nwife's prayers and tears were not thus to be of no avail. On a sudden he\nawoke from his delusion. He had lived a whole year without rum; and\nthough exposed to all weathers, he knew his health had been better, his\nhead clearer, his nerves firmer, his purse heavier, and his home\nhappier. He called one evening to see the President of the Temperance\nSociety; confessed his weakness in yielding to temptation; asked the\nforgiveness of the Society; requested to have his name, which had been\nerased from the temperance list, renewed; and promised never again to\nviolate the pledge. Since that night my husband has continued a\nperfectly temperate man. No temptation has ever led him again to violate\nhis pledge.\n\nI have been induced to give this history of his reform to the world, in\norder, if possible, to persuade others to follow his example, to show\nthem _how_ quiet and plenty were restored to a wretched dwelling, virtue\nand respectability to a ruined family, and the _poor man's house\nrepaired_.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n    A clergyman, worthy of all confidence, and acquainted with\n    the writer of the above, and the circumstances detailed,\n    testifies, that the case is \"literally and faithfully\n    described.\"\n\n\n\n\nJAMIE;\n\nOR,\n\nA VOICE FROM IRELAND FOR TEMPERANCE.\n\nA TRUE NARRATIVE.\n\nBY PROFESSOR EDGAR,\n  OF BELFAST.\n\n\nIn a populous and civilized district of Ulster lived JAMIE, a\nday-laborer; a fellow of right good sense and practical talent,\ncarpenter and mason, shoemaker and blacksmith, and aught else the case\nrequired. The variety of his powers had nearly ruined him. On all hands\nhe was in requisition, and everywhere he was a favorite--kindness\nflowing to him in its common channel, spirituous liquor. Wherever he\nwent, he was _treated_. This was too much for flesh and blood, and Jamie\nbecame, in the style of the world's false charity, \"fond of the drop.\"\nHis cash flew to the spirit-shop, and brought neither health nor\nhappiness in return. The neighbors called him--alas, for such lullabies\nto conscience!--an honest, good-hearted fellow, who did nobody any harm\nbut himself. While, however, they tempted, and flattered, and deceived,\ntheir victim was posting to ruin.\n\nBut, while moderate drinkers were training him to drunkenness, God was\nraising up the Temperance Society as an ark of safety to him from the\nflood of their temptations. One of the publications of the Ulster\nTemperance Society fell into his hands, and he read it, for he was of\nan inquiring spirit, and a blessing attended it. What, said he, in\namazement, can this be true?--distilled spirits of no more use to any\nman in health than arsenic or opium? \"Distilled spirits are too\ntempting, and dangerous, and violently intoxicating, to be used as a\ncommon beverage at all!\" O, thought he, that at least is true.\n\"Distilled spirits are in their very nature injurious to the human\nconstitution; and every man who indulges even in their moderate use,\ninjures himself in proportion to the quantity which he consumes.\" Jamie\nwas astonished, and well he might be; but Jamie was conscientious, and\nthough he had the manhood to confess, what few moderate drinkers will,\nthat he liked a glass, yet, because he had still a conscience,\nnotwithstanding the searing it had got from the fiery drink, he said to\nhimself, \"I must, at least, _try_ whether these wonderful statements\nrespecting distilled spirits be true.\" James _tried_, and the effects\nwere delightful. In a very short time he found, from happy experience,\nthat his health was better from the change; that his purse was better;\nthat soul and body, the whole man of him was far better, in all\nrespects, since he renounced the maddening draught.\n\nHis duty was now clear before him--to _abstain_ from the raging drink\nwhich, in time past, had been emptying his pocket, destroying his\ncharacter, and bringing down his body to the grave, and his soul to\nhell. He did his duty in the right way for doing duty--_at once_, and\n_right on_.\n\nHe saw, however, that something more was incumbent on him than merely\ndoing his duty in this particular--he must, for the good of others, let\nit be known, without ostentation, that his duty was done. Abstaining, he\nsaid to himself, has done me good; the banishment of spirituous liquors\nwould do my country good; what is every man's duty is my duty; and\ntherefore, in love to my brethren, I'll freely give the blessing which\nto me has been so freely given. Union is strength, thought he: separate\nefforts are a rope of sand; united, they are the cable which holds the\nmighty ship. He resolved to establish a Temperance Society.\n\nFor this purpose, he supplied himself _immediately_ with a number of\nTracts on temperance; for Jamie knew that when self-interest or passion\ncome in, second thoughts are not always best; and forthwith he commenced\ntravelling around, reading them, at spare hours throughout the\nneighborhood, wherever he could find half-a-dozen people to listen to\nhim. He was a good reader, and very soon found that his reading was not\nwithout effect; for in a short time he heard of a decent woman telling\nher neighbor to send for Jamie to the wake which was to be held in her\nhouse, if she wished to save her whiskey, and have peace and quietness;\nfor, said she, he came to the wake in my house, and read and talked\nabout temperance, till both the whiskey and the people seemed either\npersuaded or frightened, for hardly one had the courage to put to his\nlips what Jamie called, indeed too truly, \"the accursed thing.\"\n\nJamie, however, soon found to his cost that he had commenced a very\ngreat and a very sore work. The spirit-sellers, four of whom were at a\nsingle cross-roads in his neighborhood, he expected to be against him,\nand drunkards he expected would be against him too; but he soon found\nthat his chief opponents lay in quite another quarter. Sensible people\nsoon began to see that spirit-sellers are drones on the community, doing\nno good, but much harm: and, besides, one of them having first allowed a\ntemperance meeting to be held in his barn, conscientiously shut up his\nspirit-shop, and joined the Temperance Society, being convinced that\nspirit-selling is poison-selling, and that each spirit-shop might justly\nhave on its sign-board, \"Beggars made here.\" Of the drunkards, some\nindeed did call him hard names, and impute to him base motives; but from\namong even these, lost as they seemed to be to all hope, he was, by\nGod's grace, enabled to reclaim some, as brands snatched from the\nburning, while others of them said to him, in the bitterness of their\nreflecting moments, Go on, Jamie, your work is God's work. Had you\ncommenced but a little sooner, what a blessing might your Society have\nbeen to us; but alas, it is all over with us now!\n\nWhat at first surprised Jamie much was, that the fathers or husbands of\nthese very drunkards were his most bitter opponents. He went to them\nwith a glad heart, expecting that they would hear with delight of a plan\nby which drunkards, in great numbers, have been reclaimed, and by which\nthe temperate can be effectually secured against temptation; but his\nheart sunk when he found, not that they received him coldly, for to such\nreceptions he was accustomed, but that they, as well as others who boast\nmuch of being \"temperate enough already,\" lost all temper at the very\nsound of temperance.\n\nSome of these neighbors of Jamie were regular in attendance on public\nworship, orthodox and strict, which gave them an influence in the\nneighborhood. Jamie, therefore, was anxious to enlist them on the side\nof temperance. Yet he could not but know, and very seriously consider,\nthat whether, in market or fair, these same men either bought or sold,\nthere could be no such thing as a _dry_ bargain; that at _churns_, and\nwakes, and funerals, and marriages, and such like, they always pushed\nround the bottle cheerily; that they held it churlish to refuse either\nto give or take a treat; that at their evening tea-parties it was not\nuncommon for six or eight gallons of spirituous liquor to be consumed by\na few neighbors, men and women, in a single night; that in every house\nwhich their minister visited, the bottle was put to his mouth; and that\nas the natural consequence of all this and far more, not only was the\ncrime of drunkenness, whether in minister or private layman, treated\nwith much false charity, and called by many soft names, but drunkenness\nwas spreading its ravages through many families, and bringing down many\nheads in sorrow to the grave.\n\nJamie was indeed charitable, but he was unable to persuade himself that,\namid such universal drinking, all the objections to his Temperance\nSociety arose merely from ignorance, or prejudice, or conscience; and\ntherefore, when people were telling him, as they often did, that they\ncared not a rush about spirituous liquor, \"they could either drink it or\nlet it alone,\" he used sometimes to reply, \"Oh, I know well enough that\nyou can drink it; what I want to know is, whether you can let it alone:\"\nand at other times he would tell them Dean Swift's story of the three\nmen who called for whiskey in a spirit-shop: I want a glass, said the\nfirst, for I'm very hot; I want a glass, said the second, for I'm very\ncold; let me have a glass, said the third, because I like it!\n\nAs Jamie's opponents were no match for him in argument, they tried the\nplans usually resorted to when the wisdom and the spirit by which truth\nspeaks cannot be resisted. For a while they tried ridicule. That,\nhowever, neither satisfied their own consciences nor frightened Jamie,\nfor Jamie could stand a laugh, what many a man can't do who has stood\ngrape-shot. Then they circulated reports about his having got drunk on\ndifferent occasions, and having been caught drinking in secret; and some\nbelieved them, being of the same mind with the distiller, who asserted\nit to be mere humbug that any man could live without whiskey, and that\nwherever the croaking cold water society men did not drink in the\ndaytime, they made up for it by drinking at night. These evil reports,\nhowever, fell dead after a little, and nobody was vile enough to take\nthem up again; and though attempts were made to circulate the lie, that\nJamie had grown weak and sickly since he gave up drinking, yet every\nbody who looked him in the face saw, that though he had neither a purple\nnose nor whiskey blossoms on his chin, yet he was stronger and healthier\nthan ever; and that he could say, what every member of the Temperance\nSociety, whether temperate or intemperate formerly, can say with truth,\nafter abstaining for a single month from distilled spirits, that in\nevery sense of the word he is better for the change.\n\nFoiled thus in all their attempts, the opponents of Jamie and of\ntemperance rallied strong for one last charge; and as it was against\nJamie's weak side--who has not a weak side--they already chuckled in\ntriumph. Jamie had thrown away his glass for ever, but his pipe stuck\nfirm between his teeth still. The time was, when he was strong and well\nwithout tobacco, and when the taste of tobacco was disgusting and\nsickening to him; but respectable people were smoking, and chewing, and\nsnuffing around him, and when he went to the wake, the funeral, or the\nevening gathering, \"Why,\" thought he, \"should I be singular, and not\ntake a whiff like the rest?\" He chose smoking, probably, because he\nconsidered it to be the most _genteel_ way of being dirty and\ndisgusting; and, according to the general law of habits, being most\ninveterate where the article used was at first most nauseous, he soon\nbecame so confirmed a smoker that one-half of what he smoked would have\nkept him decently clothed.\n\nThe lovers of strong drink, therefore, thought that they had Jamie on\nthe hip completely, when they told him that his only reason for giving\nup whiskey was, that he could not afford to buy both it and tobacco; and\npromised, though with no sincerity, that they would quit drinking if he\nwould quit smoking.\n\nThe reproach stuck like a burr to Jamie's conscience. He asked himself\nagain and again, Is my use of tobacco a stumbling-block in the way of\nany? Does it do injury to the great cause which has all my heart? He\nread, he thought, and read and thought again; and the more he read and\nthought, the more was he convinced that the habitual use of tobacco in\nany of its forms is useless; is wasteful of time and money; is dirty; is\noffensive to others, and a breach of Christian charity; is a bad example\nto the simple and young; is a temptation to drunkenness, and injurious\nto health. He resolved to renounce it, and flung the old black pipe from\nhim to lift it again no more. Thus Jamie was conqueror still; and his\nvictory was one which Alexander, the conqueror of the world, could not\ngain. Jamie gained a victory over himself, and he that ruleth over his\nown spirit is better than he that taketh a city; but Alexander, who wept\nbecause he had not other worlds besides his own to subdue, died as a\nfool dieth, and sleeps in a drunkard's grave.\n\nJamie learned an important lesson in his victory, which will be of use\nto him as long as he lives. Whatever bad habit, he says, has got hold\nupon you, _break it of at once_. Would you pull your child out of the\nfire cautiously and gradually; or would you out with him at once? So let\nit be with every thing wrong. Don't prepare for ceasing from sin\nto-morrow, or next year, but cease from it now. Do so yourself; go right\nup to your neighbor without fear, and in love tell him to do the same,\nhaving this assurance on your mind continually, _that what ought to be\ndone, can be done_.\n\nJamie seemed from the commencement, to have taken for his motto, Expect\ngreat things, work for them, and you shall have them. Work as though all\ndepended on self; pray as knowing all to depend upon God. He knew his\nplace, and modestly kept it; yet when opportunity offered for dropping a\nword on behalf of temperance, in the ear either of clergyman or layman,\nwhatever his rank, he did what conscience told him was right towards a\nneighbor and a brother. Jamie's pockets and hat were filled with tracts,\nwhich, as the most suitable plan for his shallow purse, and perhaps,\ntoo, for securing a reading of them, he generally lent, and sometimes\ngave away, to all who promised to read.\n\nLet it not be supposed that amidst such active benevolence he neglected\nhis own business. No; Jamie had not learned in vain the apostle's maxim,\n\"Let him labor, working with his hands the thing which is good, that he\nmay have to give to him that needeth.\" It was nothing for him to start\noff half a dozen miles of an evening after his work was finished, to\nprocure some new tracts, or attend a temperance-meeting, or read and\ntalk kindly to some poor drunkard, whose wife had sent him a hint that\nher husband would be glad to see him; or else to procure the services of\nsome clergyman to address the next meeting of his Temperance Society.\nJamie is one of those who imagine that the business of a minister of the\nGospel is not finished when he has preached a couple of discourses on\nthe Sabbath; he really presumes to say, that both minister and layman\nshould be \"instant in season and out of season,\" and like their great\nMaster, going about continually doing good. He does not set up for a\npreacher, nevertheless, but confines himself to his own proper sphere.\nHe applied to ministers to address his meetings, and though some few of\nthem refused, telling him significantly that they preach the Gospel,\neven when Jamie did ask in his simplicity, if Paul forgot his resolution\nto know nothing but Christ and him crucified, when he reasoned of\nrighteousness, _temperance_, and judgment to come; yet to the honor of\nthe ministry around him be it told, that whenever he got up a meeting, a\nminister was at Jamie's service to address it.\n\nThough, as a body, Jamie's Temperance Society was most steady, yet a\nfew, and only a few, fell. It would be harsh to say that some were glad\nat their fall; at least many temptations were thrown in their way; and\nwhen they fell, a shout of triumph was raised against the Temperance\nSociety. Such trials as these only urged Jamie on with fresh vigor.\n\nSuppose, he used to say, that every drunkard should return again to\ndrunkenness and ruin; would not this be another proof that truth, and\nhonor, and principle, are all as nothing before the drunken appetite?\nWould not this be a louder and a stronger call to save the young, to\nstop young sons and daughters, now safe, from filling the place of\ndrunken parents when they are gone? What ruins these poor wretches? he\nwould ask. Is it the mere _abuse_ of a good and wholesome thing? No.\nDistilled spirits are tempting, deceitful, and too violently\nintoxicating to be at all habitually used with safety; and as four\nhundred of the ablest doctors now living have established, and\nunnumbered facts prove, they are unwholesome and injurious to body and\nsoul. Let every man, then, for his own sake abstain; and for the sake of\nothers too, especially such as are near and dear to him, O let him\nabstain for ever.\n\nWho, he would ask, give currency and influence to the absurd fooleries\nwhich are circulated respecting the marvellous excellences of spirituous\nliquors, while common-sense tells that they are of no more use to a man\nthan to a cow or horse? Not drunkards, surely; for, on such a subject at\nleast, they would not be believed. Who give support and respectability\nto spirit-shops, and the whole spirit-trade? Drunkards surely could make\nnothing respectable, and no spirit-seller would put on his sign-board,\n\"The drunkard's spirit-shop.\" Again, he would put it to men's\nconsciences to answer, who give respectability and permanence to all the\n_treatings_ and other customs by which each successive generation of\ndrunkards is trained? There was no getting over the undeniable fact,\nthat moderate spirit-drinkers must bear the responsibility of all this;\nand the more the matter was canvassed, the more clearly was it seen,\nthat the only way in which drunkenness can be put down is the very way\nwhich Jamie and the Temperance Society proposed--_the union of the\ntemperate in refraining from intoxicating drinks, and promoting\ntemperance_.\n\nTo _parents_ Jamie addressed himself with unwearied and anxious\nimportunity. Would you object, he would say to them, when other\narguments had failed--would you object to your son becoming a member\nwhen going away from you to live, perhaps, amidst the temptations of a\nlarge town? Would you be afraid, lest keeping him away from the\ntemptations of the bottle would make him an easier prey to the\nsolicitations of the strange woman, whose house is the way to death, and\nwhose steps take hold on hell? He met with none, whether spirit-sellers\nor spirit-drinkers, who were able to resist this appeal; and from this,\nas well as other causes, the young formed a large and zealous portion of\nJamie's Society. The young he was particularly anxious to enlist in his\ncause, not merely because youth is the time of truth, and of open, warm\nhearts, and in an especial manner God's time, but because he believed\nspirit-drinking parents to be the great agents in making their children\ndrunkards.\n\nA case which happened in his own neighborhood, gave him a melancholy\nconfirmation of this opinion. A respectable moderate drinker, who only\nnow and then exceeded his single tumbler of punch, had seven daughters,\nwhom he was in the habit of treating to a little glass of punch each day\nafter dinner. He, of course, considered it good, and they were soon\ntaught to consider it so too. They began first to like their one glass;\nthen they began to like two glasses much better; one glass called for\nanother, till, in the end, they found, according to the adage, that\nthough one glass of spirits is too much for any one, two glasses are\nquite too little. Right onward they went to drunkenness and crime; for,\nalas, it was too true in their case, as in all others, that any one may\nbe ruined who can be persuaded to drink intoxicating liquors. With the\nhelp of whiskey, as the murderer said, a man can do any thing; so, at\nleast, it was with these poor girls; they are living with broken\ncharacter, virtue and all lost. There is, however, one exception, the\nyoungest; and how did she escape? She was too young when her father died\nto be influenced by her father's example; and her father, with the\ncharacter of a moderate, regular man, died sitting at table with his\ntumbler of punch before him.\n\nPrincipally through the prudent and laborious exertions of Jamie, a\ngreat moral reformation has been effected throughout an extensive\ndistrict; three hundred names are enrolled on the list of his Temperance\nSociety; wives and sisters are blessing him for husbands and brothers\nreformed; the standard of public sentiment in regard to temperance has\nbeen nobly raised; people don't talk now as formerly of a man's being\n_somewhat elevated_ or _tipsy_, or merely _overtaken_, when he is drunk,\nfor they have learned to call things by their right names, and not\npractise imposture by slang phrases. Public resolutions have been passed\nagainst giving spirituous liquor at wakes or funerals, churns,\nploughing-matches, or evening parties; men and women can go to market\nand fair, buy and sell, and yet never think of _treating_ or being\n_treated_ with spirits; and what still more fully exhibits the extent of\nthe reformation, it has reached, in some cases, even the most degraded\nvictims of iniquity, some of whom at least are now consistent members of\nthe Temperance Society.\n\nArguing on the subject of temperance has, in a good degree, ceased in\nthe neighborhood; and though a number of the old or ill-disposed appear\ndecidedly resolved to have their glass, whatever the consequences, in\nthe spirit of the fellow who told his doctor that he loved his glass,\nand did not care a fig for his liver, yet the young and conscientious\nare becoming more hearty in the cause of Jamie and temperance.\n\nNothing gladdened Jamie's heart more than the success which crowned his\nefforts in the Sabbath-school, of which he is superintendent.\nSpirit-drinking he not only knew to be a barrier against the progress of\nthe Gospel, in preventing drunkards from hearing it, and grieving away\nthe Spirit of God from the moderate drinker, but he felt it to be\npeculiarly injurious to the young, in often swallowing up that money\nwhich should be spent in their education, and in withholding from many\neven the poor pittance which should cover their nakedness in the\nSabbath-school and the house of God.\n\nAs, therefore, the children of the poor had wrung out so much of the\nbitter dregs of spirit-drinking, he was anxious that Temperance\nSocieties, the sworn foes of spirit-drinking, should, with their\nearliest, warmest efforts, return blessings to them for years of sorrow,\noppression, and wrong. Sabbath-school teachers, too, he saw to be among\nGod's choicest instruments in the work of reform. Young, yet serious,\nactive, and benevolent, possessed of the confidence of their scholars\nand their parents, and from their own character, and their connection\nwith a noble system of Christian enterprise, exercising a mighty moral\ninfluence, wide as the world, what could they not do for the\nregeneration of the public mind, especially of that mind which shall be\nall active, in good or ill, when the present generation are mouldering\nin the grave.\n\nHe commenced, therefore, the work of reformation in his own\nSabbath-school, and he commenced in the right way, by communicating\ninformation, and bringing both teachers and scholars to think and apply\nthe truth for themselves. He wished none, he said, to join his ranks\nagainst the great enemy, but volunteers; he wished for no influence over\nany one, but the influence of truth, and no bond upon any but the bond\nof an enlightened conscience. He introduced a proposal for each teacher\nin rotation to read an interesting extract to the scholars on some\nsuitable subject, and temperance of course was not excluded. The mere\nhearing of the principles of Temperance Societies was sufficient to make\nconverts of some of the teachers; for what can be more rational than\nabstaining from intoxicating drinks and promoting temperance? but it was\nnot so with others.\n\nFreethinkers may talk as they please about a man having no more control\nover his belief than over the hue of his skin or the height of his\nstature, still it is a simple fact of Jamie's experience, that it is\nmighty hard to convince a man who does not wish to be convinced; and\nthat, when anybody first resolves to continue to drink, he is then\nmarvellously fertile in objections against the Temperance Society.\n\nOne of the teachers especially, who had been at different times\n_overtaken_ by the bottle coming from the market or fair, was so opposed\nto temperance, that when his turn for reading on the subject came, he\nhad still some excuse; and Jamie, without in any way wounding his\nfeelings, was prepared with an extract to read for him, till at length,\nfinding him softening down under the influence of truth and love, he, on\none morning of his turn for reading, put an extract into his hand, and\nsaid kindly, Just go out for a little and read it over by yourself, and\nthat will prepare you for reading it nicely to the children. He did so,\nand came in and read it as one who felt its power. Jamie saw that his\nheart was full, he knew that _now_ is the time for doing good, and not\nto-morrow, and therefore rising up and proposing that a Temperance\nSociety should be formed in the school, he put his own name to the usual\ndeclaration, _We resolve to refrain from intoxicating drinks, and\npromote temperance._\n\nThe next man who stepped forward was the self-same teacher who had so\nlong opposed. \"Children,\" said he, \"spirituous liquor is a bad thing; it\nhas done me harm; it is doing harm to every thing good, and to show that\nI hate it and renounce it, I put down my name.\" The other teachers\nfollowed; the elder children followed the noble example of their\nteachers, and as a proof that they knew and felt what they did, when\nafter school-hours on next Candlemas-day, the master of a day-school\nwhich some of them attended, brought forth whiskey to treat the scholars\naccording to custom, the noble little temperance heroes rose, as if by\nconcert, and marched out of the room.\n\nWhile thus Jamie urged on the good work of reforming others, his own\nsoul knew the blessings of the promise, \"He that watereth others, shall\nbe watered also himself.\" After renouncing whiskey, he felt a sweetness\nand power in God's word which he had never known before. He almost\ndoubted whether it could be the same old Bible that he used to read. He\nhad been abusing God's mercy by indulging in sin in time past, as if in\nexpectation that sovereign grace would some moment descend in a miracle\nand drag him to holiness and heaven; but now he saw clearly that God is\nsincere in all his promises, and that the gracious invitations of the\nGospel mean just what they say.\n\nHis first duty, he saw clearly, was to give his own self to the Lord. To\nthat God of love who asked his heart, he gave it. He heard God in his\nword saying, \"Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be\nsaved;\" and he took God at his word, and obeyed his command. From what\nhe knew to be sin, he ceased at once; and what God told him was duty, he\ndid at once, as God enabled him, without stopping to calculate\nconsequences, for he left them with his Maker. He knew that no one goes\nto heaven or hell alone, the influence of the most humble being\nnecessarily exerted either for good or ill; and as though travailing in\nbirth for immortal souls, he was each day, by his conversation and\nexample, saying to his neighbor, Come with us, and we will do you good.\nThe more heartily and fully he obeyed God, the better he liked God's\nservice; and the more extensive acquaintance he obtained of the great\nsalvation of the Gospel, the more strongly did he feel himself drawn by\na Saviour's love to accept, to adorn, and propagate it. Though beyond\nmiddle life, he had never celebrated his Saviour's love at the Lord's\ntable. Now, however, he saw it to be his duty and privilege; and those\nwhose hearts are set on winning souls, can conceive with what holy joy a\nworthy young minister, whose church Jamie had lately joined, saw him\nsitting down to commemorate with his fellow-Christians the dying love\nof the great Redeemer.\n\n\"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy\nmercy, and for thy truth's sake.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI knew a man by the name of D----, who was a very skilful, robust, and\nprosperous blacksmith, and a man of more than ordinary intelligence. He\nyielded to the temptation to which his trade exposed him, till he became\nhabitually intemperate, and actually a nuisance to the neighborhood. The\ninnkeeper, who was also a store-keeper, on whom he depended for his\ndaily supplies of strong drink, amounting, it is believed, to little\nless than a barrel and a half annually, at length hired him to abstain\nfor one year, by giving him his note of hand of ten dollars. He\nimmediately became a calm and peaceable man. His health, and appetite,\nand business returned to him. And he would tell you that the innkeeper\nhad done him the greatest kindness he had ever received. \"I was undone,\"\nsaid he. \"Now I enjoy myself and my family, and the best farm in the\ntown would not tempt me to return to the use of ardent spirits.\" The\npoor man kept his resolution till the end of the eleventh month, which\nit seems he had mistaken for the end of the year, and then ventured to\nindulge a little; and alas, when I saw him last, he was dragging his\nlegs along, supported by two of his companions, who I feared were\npursuing the same miserable course to destruction, and seemed to be\nlending him their sympathy; and he was one of the most loathsome and\ndegraded human beings my eyes ever beheld. I should not be surprised to\nknow that he is now with the dead. May my latter end not be like his.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA respectable merchant in P----, having long observed that a farmer,\nwith whom he often traded, was in the habit of using ardent spirits to\ngreat excess, offered one day to give him fifty dollars, if he would\ndrink no more for ten years; except so much as his physician should\nthink necessary for his health. The farmer agreed to the proposition,\nand the bargain was confirmed in writing. It was not long before he felt\nunwell, applied to his physician, and bitters were prescribed. He had\nscarcely begun to use them, when he found that his appetite for ardent\nspirits was returning with almost irresistible violence. He foresaw the\nevil that would probably ensue, threw away his bitters, and dashed his\nbottle to pieces. He drunk no more ardent spirits till the ten years had\nexpired, when he called on the merchant, and informed him that the\nconditions of the obligation had been, on his part, fulfilled. \"Of\ncourse, then,\" said the merchant, \"you want your money.\" \"No,\" he\nreplied, \"I cannot take it. I have saved far more than my fifty dollars\nin my bills at your store, and I have made ten times that sum by\nattention to my business.\" The merchant has long since gone to his rest.\nThe farmer still lives, has a large estate, and a fine family around\nhim, and is a respectable and worthy citizen; for, till this day, he\ndrinks no ardent spirits.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDECLARATION OF THIRTY-EIGHT PHYSICIANS.\n\n\"The undersigned, physicians of Cincinnati, feel it their duty to\nexpress their decided opinion in opposition to the habitual, as well as\noccasional use of ardent spirits. They are convinced, from all their\nobservation and experience, that ardent spirits are not only\n_unnecessary_, but absolutely _injurious_ in a healthy state of the\nsystem; that they produce many, and aggravate most of the diseases to\nwhich the human frame is liable; that they are unnecessary in relieving\nthe effects of cold and fatigue, which are best relieved by rest and\nfood; that their use in families, in the form of bitters, toddy, punch,\netc., is decidedly pernicious, perverting the appetite, and undermining\nthe constitution; that they are equally as poisonous as opium or\narsenic, operating sometimes more slowly, but with equal certainty.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE WONDERFUL ESCAPE.\n\n\nIn the town where I reside were twelve young men who were accustomed,\nearly in life, to meet together for indulgence in drinking and all\nmanner of excess. In the course of time, some of them engaged in\nbusiness; but their habits of intemperance were so entwined with their\nvery existence, that they became bankrupts or insolvents. Eight of them\ndied under the age of forty, without a hope beyond the grave, victims of\nintemperance. Three others are still living in the most abject poverty.\nTwo of these had formerly moved in very respectable circles, but now\nthey are in the most miserable state of poverty and disgrace.\n\nOne more, the last of the twelve, the worst of all, remains to be\naccounted for. He was a sort of ringleader; and being in the wine and\nspirit trade, his business was to take the head of the table at\nconvivial parties, and sit up whole nights drinking and inducing others\nto do the same, never going to bed sober. He was an infidel, a\nblasphemer, a disciple of Tom Paine, both in principle and practice, yet\nhe was a good-natured man, and would do any body a kindness. At length\nhe left the town, and went to reside at a distance, where, for a time,\nhe refrained from drinking, was married, and every thing seemed\nprosperous around him; but instead of being thankful to God for his\nmercy, and watching against his besetting sin, he gave way to his old\npropensity, and brought misery on his family and friends.\n\nOne dark night, being in the neighborhood of Dudley, he had been\ndrinking to excess, wandered out of the house, and staggered among the\ncoalpits, exposed to fall into them, and be lost. He proceeded on till\nhe fell, and rolled down the bank of the canal; but God, who is rich in\nmercy, had caused a stone to lie directly in his path, and the poor\ndrunkard was stopped from rolling over into the water, where, by one\nturn more, he would have sunk into eternal ruin. His senses returned for\na moment; he saw that if he attempted to stand, he would fall headlong\ninto the canal, and crawled back again into the road. But this\nmiraculous preservation had no effect upon him; he merely called it a\nlucky escape.\n\nOnce, after having indulged in many days of intemperance, being come a\nlittle to his senses, he began to reason with himself upon his\nfolly--surrounded with blessings, yet abusing the whole--and in an\nangry, passionate manner, he muttered, \"O, it's no use for me to repent;\nmy sins are too great to be forgiven.\" He had no sooner uttered these\nwords, than a voice seemed to say, with strong emphasis, \"If thou wilt\nforsake thy sins, they shall be forgiven.\" The poor man started at what\nhe believed to be real sound, and turned round, but saw no one, and said\nto himself, \"I have been drinking till I am going mad.\" He stood\nparalyzed, not knowing what to think, till relieved by a flood of tears,\nand then exclaimed, \"Surely, this is the voice of mercy, once more\ncalling me to repentance.\" He fell on his knees, and half suffocated by\nhis feelings, cried out, \"God be merciful to me a sinner.\" The poor\nwretch was broken-hearted; and now his besetting sin appeared more\nhorrible than ever; but it must be conquered, or he must perish. Then\ncommenced a contest more terrible than that of conflicting armies; the\nsoul was at stake; an impetuous torrent was to be turned into an\nopposite course. He now began to search the Bible, which he had once\ndespised. Here he saw that crimson and scarlet sins could be blotted\nout, and made white as snow; that the grace of God was sufficient. He\nrefrained from intemperance, commenced family prayer, and hope again\nrevived; but his deadly foe still pursued him, and he was again\novercome.\n\nNow his disgrace and sinfulness appeared worse than ever, and with\nmelancholy feeling he cried out, in anguish of spirit, that he was\ndoomed to eternal misery, and it was useless to try to avert his fate.\nHis cruel enemy took this opportunity to suggest to his mind that he had\nso disgraced himself, that it would be better to get rid of his life at\nonce--frequently the end of drunkards. The razor was in his hand; but\nthe Spirit of the Lord interposed, and the weapon fell to the ground.\nStill his enemy pursued him, and seemed to have new power over his sin\nof intemperance. He would sometimes refrain for days and weeks, and\nthen again he was as bad as ever. Hope seemed now to be lost; especially\none day, when, after having been brought into great weakness through\nintemperance, death appeared to be very near, and his awful state more\nterrific than ever. Not a moment was to be lost; he cast himself once\nmore at the footstool of his long-insulted Creator, and with an\nintensity of agony cried out, \"What profit is there in my blood when I\ngo down to the pit? Shall the dust praise thee? Shall it declare thy\ntruth? Hear, O Lord, and have mercy upon me; Lord, be thou my helper.\"\nHe sunk down exhausted; he could say no more. That prayer was heard; and\na voice from heaven seemed to reply, \"I will help thee; I have seen thy\nstruggles, and I will now say to thine enemy, 'Hitherto thou hast\ncome--but no further.'\"\n\nA physician was consulted as to the probability or possibility of\nmedicine being rendered effectual to stop the disposition to\nintemperance. The poor man would have suffered the amputation of all his\nlimbs, could so severe a method have freed him from his deadly habit,\nwhich, like a vulture, had fastened upon his very vitals. Eagerly did he\nbegin to take the simple medicine prescribed--a preparation of\nsteel--with earnest prayer to God for help in this last struggle for\nlife; but faith and prayer proved the best of remedies; he persevered,\nand conquered; and be it said to the honor and glory of the Lord God\nAlmighty, who sent his angel to whisper in the poor man's ear, \"I will\nhelp thee,\" that from the latter end of September, 1816, to the present\nhour, nearly twenty years, _not so much as a spoonful of spirituous\nliquor, or wine of any description, has ever passed the surface of that\nman's tongue_.\n#/\n\nThe above account of his own experience, was given by Mr. Hall, a\nmerchant of Maidstone, Kent, at the anniversary of the British and\nForeign Temperance Society, May, 1836.\n\nMr. Hall stated, in conclusion, that he had since been aiming to be\nuseful to his fellow-men, and had written a Tract, the object of which\nwas to call drunkards, and all sinners to repentance, of which more than\none hundred thousand copies had been circulated. See Tract No. 349.\n\nHas the reader a relative, friend, or neighbor, who drinks his daily\ndrams, and is plunging into that awful gulf which yearly swallows up its\nthousands of victims? Let the above history suggest a duty, and\nencourage to its performance. This is not a solitary instance of victory\nobtained over powerful and raging appetite. There is evidence that tens\nof thousands of persons in the United States, who were once intemperate,\nhave become sober, useful citizens; and not a few of them ardent\nChristians. And this has been effected, not by despising and reproaching\nthem, but chiefly through the divine blessing on _the kind personal\ninfluence of friends_, excited by no other motive than Christian\nbenevolence and love of their fellow-men. The self-despair of the\nintemperate mind arises, in a great measure, from the conviction that he\nis an outcast from public respect and sympathy. He is moved by the\nlanguage of kindness; and if suitably warned of his danger, and pointed\nto the way of escape, may be saved from ruin. Persuade him to refrain\ntill reason resumes her sway, and the burning desire for stimulus has\nsubsided. A few months will generally effect this great change. In his\nsober hours he often weeps over his folly, his ear is open to the voice\nof friendship, and he will yield to kind remonstrance--perhaps consent\nto place himself under the care of a temperate physician. _Go to him\nwhen alone_, with tenderness and love. Offer him such aid as is needed\nby himself or family. Give him the above history, in view of which none\nneed despair. Bring him, if possible, to the house of God. Go to him\nagain and again, till you obtain his pledge, to abstinence. Follow him\nwith kindness. Support him in the struggle. Induce him _utterly to\nabandon all that can intoxicate, as his only safety_; wholly to-refrain\nfrom the _place_ and the _company_ where intoxicating drinks are used;\nand in dependence on Christ, humbly to offer the prayer, \"Hold thou me\nup, and I shall be safe.\" Interest yourself in his welfare, and\npersevere till you gain the glorious triumph--the conquest of an\n_immortal mind_, that may diffuse blessings on every side in this life,\nand be a star in the Redeemer's crown of glory for ever.\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS;\n\nOR,\n\nTHE DESTITUTION AND WRETCHEDNESS OF A DRUNKARD.\n\n[Illustration: Drunk's ill wife fainting]\n\n\n\"It is a sorrowful heart,\" said I to myself, as I raked over the dying\nembers upon the hearth, to throw a transient gleam of light over my\ndreary cottage--\"It is a sorrowful heart that never rejoices; and though\nI am somewhat in debt at the _Blue Moon_, and the landlady of the _Stag_\nhas over and over again said she'd never trust me, still she has not yet\nrefused me, only at first. Many's the shilling I have paid them both, to\nbe sure,\" said I, rising involuntarily and going to the cupboard: \"I had\nbetter take a mouthful before I go out, for it's no use to wait any\nlonger for Mary's return.\"\n\nJust at this moment the eldest of my two children inquired in a piteous\ntone, \"if that was mother.\" \"Your mother? no,\" said I; \"and what if it\nwas, what then?\" \"Because, father,\" continued the child, \"I thought\nperhaps she had brought a loaf of bread home, for I am so hungry.\"\n\"Hungry, child,\" said I; \"then why did you not ask me before you went to\nbed?\" \"Because, father, I knew there was no bread. When mother sent me\nto get a loaf this morning at the grocer's, Mrs. Mason said our last\nmonth's bill had not yet been settled, and she could not trust any more;\nand so we have only had a few potatoes. When mother went out to look for\nwork, she promised to bring a loaf home very early.\" \"Why, Jane,\" said\nI, \"this is a new story--what, is there nothing at all in the house?\"\n\"No, father, nothing; and that is not all, father; mother cried this\nmorning about it when she went out; and though she never uses bad words,\nsaid something about cursed drink: she said she should be back before\ndark, and it has now been dark a long time, and hark, how it rains.\"\n\nThe fire flickered up a little, and at this moment the latch of the door\nclicked; I peeped up through the gloom, a pang of conscious shame\nstealing through my frame; but it was not my wife, as I of course\nsupposed--it was Mrs. Mason. I was surprised and confused. \"Where is\nyour wife, James?\" said she, in a mild, firm tone. \"Is that mother?\"\nsaid my child again, in a rather sleepy tone; \"I am so glad you are\ncome, I am so hungry.\" \"That child,\" said I, \"has gone to bed without\nher supper to-night,\" fumbling about at the same time upon the\nmantel-piece for a bit of candle, which I could not find. \"Yes,\" said\nMrs. Mason, very gravely, \"and without its dinner too, I fear; but where\nis your wife, James? for I am come to see whether she brought any thing\nhome with her for herself and family; for I could not feel comfortable\nafter I had refused your child a loaf this morning, just as I know the\nrefusal was.\" I now stammered out something about \"sorry,\" and\n\"ashamed,\" and \"bad times.\" \"But where _is_ your wife, James?\" \"She is,\nperhaps, at neighbor Wright's,\" said I, briskly, glad to catch an\nopportunity of a minute's retreat from my present awkward position;\n\"I'll just step and see. Jane, get up, child.\" \"No, James,\" said Mrs.\nMason, in a tone not to be misunderstood; \"no, James, I wish she was\nsitting by their comfortable fireside; I called in there just now, as I\ncame along, to pay a little bill, and they spoke very kindly of your\nwife, and hoped she might be enabled to rub through this winter--but I\nwill call again in half an hour: Mary will have come home, I hope, by\nthat time.\"\n\nThe door closed upon her, and I remained in a kind of half stupor; my\nmonth's unpaid bill, my public-house scores, my destitute home; these\nand a thousand things connected with my situation, kept me musing in no\nvery comfortable frame of mind, when the latch again clicked, the door\nopened, and through the half gleam of one flickering flame, I just\ncaught the glimpse of a form, that in the next instant, cold and wet,\nsunk lifeless in my arms. It was Mary. As she sunk down upon me, she\njust said, with a shudder, \"Cold.\" Shall I stop to tell you of the agony\nof my mind? Shall I endeavor to relate a portion of the thoughts that\nchased each other with a comet's rapidity through my brain; the\nremembrance of our past comforts, and our happiness too? Recovering\nafter the lapse of an instant, I called, \"Jane, Jane, get up, and make\nhaste; your mother is come home, and is very ill and faint; get a\nlight\"--she was quickly at my side--\"get a light,\" for the little\nunfriendly flame had ceased to burn.\n\n\"But where are you, mother?\" said Jane. \"Jane, child,\" said I, angrily,\n\"your mother is here; get a light directly.\" \"We haven't a bit of\ncandle, father.\" \"Then get some wood out of the back room--break up some\nlittle bits--O, do make haste.\" \"We haven't a bit of wood, father.\"\n\"Child, child--\" \"Yes, father, but we haven't any.\" My poor wife at this\nmoment gave a kind of sob, and with a slight struggle, as if for breath,\nsunk heavier in my arms. I tried to hold her up in an easier posture,\ncalling to her in a tender manner, \"Mary, my dear Mary;\" but my\nsensations and my conscience almost choked me. In this moment of anguish\nand perplexity, my wife, for aught I knew, dead in my arms--without\nlight, without fuel, without food, without credit, Mrs. Mason returned.\nJane had managed to make the fire burn up, just so as to disclose our\nwretched situation. \"Your wife ill?\" said Mrs. Mason, hastily stepping\nforward--\"very ill, I fear, James, and wet and cold--run hastily,\nJames,\" reaching herself a broken chair, \"and call in Mrs. Wright, and\nplace your wife on my lap.\" This I immediately did, and as I opened the\ndoor to go out, I heard Mrs. Mason ask Jane to get a light--and shame\nmade me secretly rejoice, that I had escaped the humiliation, for the\npresent, of confessing that we had not even a bit of a candle in the\nhouse.\n\nMrs. Wright was preparing for supper: they were regular and early folks,\nand my heart sunk within me when, in my hurry, I unceremoniously opened\nthe door--I mean the contrast I saw between their cottage and my own; a\nclean cloth was laid, with spoons, and basins, and white, clean plates,\nand knives and forks, with every other necessary comfort. Wright was\nsitting with his back towards the fire, with a candle in one hand and a\nbook in the other, reading to his wife, who was leaning forward, and\njust in the act of taking a pot off the hanger, in which it would be\neasy to guess, was something warm for supper. The fire and candle gave a\ncheerful light, and every thing looked \"comfortable.\" \"My wife is taken\nvery ill,\" said I, \"and Mrs. Mason, who has just stepped in, begged me\nto call in your help.\" \"Mrs. Mason at your house now?\" said Mrs. Wright;\n\"come, Wright, reach me my cloak, and let us make haste and go.\" We were\nall at the door, when Mrs. Wright said, \"What, come to fetch us without\na lantern? and ours is at the glazier's. What are we to do?\" \"The\ndistance is very short,\" I said. \"Yes,\" said Wright, \"but long enough\nfor an accident; how I do like necessaries;\" adding, in an undertone, as\nhe pulled his wife along, something about \"enough for _tavern debts_,\nbut nothing to buy _necessaries_.\"\n\nOn opening my cottage door, I called out--for no one was in the\nroom--\"Mrs. Mason, are you up stairs? how is Mary? here is Mrs. Wright;\nshall I come up?\" No one answered, and Mrs. Wright passed me, going\nsoftly up stairs, saying, in a low tone, as she ascended, \"James, you\nhad better make up a good fire, and get some water heated as fast as you\ncan.\" Again I was aghast. \"Get some water heated,\" said I; and the\nwretchedness of our bedless bed and furnitureless room crossed my mind\nat the same time. Mrs. Mason, at this moment, leaned over the banisters,\nand said, in a soft voice, \"James, fetch the doctor, and lose no time;\nmake haste, for life may depend on it.\" My wretchedness seemed now\ncomplete; the very fire of delirium and confusion seemed to seize upon\nmy brain; and hastily calling out to Jane to attend upon Mr. Wright, I\nsnatched up my hat, and pushed by my neighbor without heeding some\ninquiries he had begun about the necessaries that were then so much\nrequired.\n\nIt rained, and was very dark; the road to the doctor's was not the best,\nand he lived rather more than a mile off; it was impossible to proceed\nfaster than a slow, cautious walk. I was now alone, and, in much\nbitterness of spirit, began to upbraid myself, and those companions of\nmy folly who had led me on to habits that had first disgraced, and then\nbrought me to severe ruin. With what vivid brightness did the first year\nof our marriage, its comforts and its hopes, again pass before me; and\nwhen my mind led me on through all its changing scenes, up to the moment\nwhen Mrs. Mason, in her low, subdued tone of voice, called to me to\nfetch the doctor, and to mind I lost no time; I could only realize my\nwife as dying, and myself the cruel tyrant who had, by neglect, ill\nusage, and partial starvation, brought her to an untimely end.\n\nWhen I entered the doctor's house, \"Is that you, James King?\" said he,\nsharply; \"do you want me?\" \"Yes, sir,\" said I; \"my wife is very ill, and\nMrs. Mason, who called in just at the time she was taken, desired me to\ncome and to request your attendance upon her. I am afraid, sir, it is no\nlittle affair.\" \"Mrs. Mason, Mrs. Mason,\" said the doctor; \"I am\ninclined to think Mrs. Mason has better drugs in her shop for your\nwife's complaint, than my shop affords, and I expect I shall have to\ntell her so.\" I hung down my head with shame; I understood what he\nmeant. He then moved towards the door, putting on his greatcoat as he\nwalked along. \"But stop,\" said he, just as we got to the outer door,\n\"how did you come--no lantern?\" \"I can carry your lantern before you,\nsir,\" said I. \"Yes,\" said he, \"and _I_ may bring it back.\" \"But I will\nreturn with you, sir; my wife will most likely want some medicine.\"\n\"Yes, James,\" said he, \"and if she does, I shall want the money longer\nstill.\" I had no word to reply, it was no time to begin being\nindependent. The doctor's large glass lantern was brought, and our\njourney back was quickly performed. I should have thought a great deal\nof giving 7_s._ 6_d._ for such a lantern, if I had really required just\nsuch an one; yet I had paid as many pounds on my scores, and thought\nnothing at all about it.\n\nOn getting home, I found that somehow it had been managed to make up a\ngood fire, and the tea-kettle was boiling, and Mrs. Mason was just\nmaking a little tea. \"How is Mary?\" said I, hardly daring to look Mrs.\nMason in the face. \"Well, Mrs. Mason,\" said the doctor, \"pray what is\nthe matter?\" and as the doctor spoke, Mrs. Mason took up the jug of tea\nshe had made, conversed with the doctor in an undertone for half a\nminute, and both walked up stairs, leaving me again to reflection, in\nfact, taking no notice of me. I sunk down heavily upon the chair that\nwas beside the fire, in a state of exhaustion, and while I was wondering\nwhere all this would end, was aroused by the cry of \"James, James, the\ndoctor says your wife must put her feet into warm water; so bring up\nsome directly, James, in a large pan or bucket, or any thing that is\nhandy; pray, make haste;\" and before I could reply, for I doubted\nwhether there was either, the door was shut, and again I was placed in a\nnew difficulty. However, I found an old leaky pail and an old broken\npan; so I set the pail into the pan to catch the leakage, and together,\nthey did tolerably well; but I felt considerable shame as I handed this\nlumbering affair up stairs, well knowing it would call forth some\nremark.\n\nI had just again seated myself at the fire, when the doctor, in no very\ngentle tone, called out, \"James, here, man, take this paper to my\noffice; Mr. Armstrong will give you some physic for your wife, and then\nit will be twice given, for I suppose you will never pay for it.\" I\nstared at him, or rather paused and hesitated--who could tell why? was\nit the taunts I was thus obliged to endure; or was it bodily exhaustion?\nI had eaten all the food my poor Mary had put into my basket for my\nbreakfast; and, as it appeared, all she had in the world; yet I had\nmanaged to borrow sixpence at noon, intending to buy me a loaf and\ncheese, and half a pint of beer for my dinner; but venturing upon half a\npint of beer first, I called for another; and, becoming thirsty, for a\npint; and so my dinner and my afternoon's work were both lost together.\nIt must now have been nearly ten o'clock, and I had tasted no food, as I\nsaid before, since breakfast. I felt faint, and well I might; however,\nwith a heavy step and a heavier heart, taking up the doctor's lantern,\nand looking round upon the empty wretchedness before me, I again set out\nfor the doctor's. And did I not also think over neighbor Wright's\ncomfortable, cheerful room, and his boiling pot; while I, who had that\nday spent a borrowed sixpence upon beer, had not even a crust of bread\nfor myself or family? And did I forget the pence, and then the\nshillings, and then the pounds I had paid at public-houses; selling, and\npawning my bed from under me, and my clothes from off my back, and all\nto gain misery and want, and lose my good name?\n\nMr. Armstrong was a kind-hearted young man, and soon prepared the\nmedicines, and by kind and cheerful hopes concerning my poor Mary, and a\nlittle civil conversation, raised my spirits, and I walked back somewhat\nlighter of heart; but I was thoroughly wet, and the cold rain pierced my\nvery marrow, for I was wearing summer clothing in the winter season--I\nhad no other. Cold and wet, exhausted and miserable, I once more lifted\nthe latch of my own cottage door. The candle was dimly burning. My fears\narose, and my heart sunk within me: \"Is Mary worse?\" said I. \"She is no\nbetter,\" said Mr. Wright, who was sitting over the dying embers--\"no\nbetter--heavy work, James.\"\n\nI placed the medicine upon the table, and sat down, exhausted and\nwretched. Whose situation so low, could he have known all, that would\nnot have pitied me? Wright rose, and carried the medicines up stairs;\nand in another minute all was the stillness of death. I could have borne\nany thing but this--at least I so felt--but under this oppressive\nstillness, my feelings gave way in torrents of tears, and every moment\nbrought a fresh accusation against myself for my past doings; and again\nI looked around me, as well as my tearful eyes and dimly-lighted room\nwould allow, and contrasted all with John Wright's. \"So comfortable,\"\nsaid I, involuntarily. Indistinct sounds and cautious steppings were now\nheard above; and while I was raising myself up to listen, in order to\ncatch, if possible, something that would acquaint me with the state of\nmy poor Mary, the bedroom door opened, and down came Wright and his\nwife, the latter carefully lighting the doctor, Mrs. Mason being close\nbehind him. I tried to recover myself a little, and to assume something\nlike the appearance of courage; and in a half-choked, coughing voice,\nsaid, \"How is my poor wife, sir?\" The doctor, with a severity of manner,\nand imitating my manner of speaking, replied, \"You should have coughed\nsooner, James;\" then turning to Mrs. Mason, said, \"Remember, _quiet_ is\nthe best medicine _now_; indeed, it is food and medicine in her present\nstate; don't teaze her about any thing; at half past, mind--and again at\ntwelve, until the pain subsides, when sleep will follow.\"\n\nI shrunk back at the words \"half past,\" which reminded me that I had not\neven a twenty-shilling clock in the house.\n\n\"James,\" said the doctor, \"have you no time in the house?\" \"No, I\nsuppose not,\" he answered himself. \"Well, then, you must guess at it; oh\ndear, bad work indeed. Come, James, put that bit of candle into the\nlantern; I hope it does not rain now.\"\n\nWright opened the door, and I walked out with the lantern, the doctor\nfollowing, and, buttoning his coat closely round him, remarked upon the\ndarkness of the night. I walked on with an unsteady step, feeling as if\nevery yard of ground I strode over would be the last. But, urged on by\nmy situation, I reached the doctor's house without any remark from him\nupon my wearied step, and pulled his bell in rather a hasty manner.\n\n\"You are in a hurry, James,\" said he, \"you forget the time of night; a\ngentle pull would have waked the attendant without disturbing my family.\n_My_ family are very regular, James, and I make it a rule never to\ndisturb them when it can be avoided; perhaps you think such things of no\nconsequence: regularity, James, and sobriety, are two very principal\nthings in a family.\"\n\nBy this time the attendant appeared, and, giving him the lantern and\nthanking the doctor for his kind attention, I left the door to return\nhome. The door closed, and my situation was a very painful one; the\nsudden change from light to utter darkness obliged me to stand still a\nfew minutes before I could venture to move, but a world of sensations\nran through my mind, and distracted me more than ever; the weakness of\nmy body prevented my checking its sensations; and, could I have weighed\nin the balance of reason, to say nothing of religion, at this moment,\nall foolish, sinful pleasures--falsely so called--of drinking, with the\ndistress of mind and weariness of body I then endured, and had endured\non this one single night, how light would they have seemed. Yes, even if\nI had not included the loss of positive property and health.\n\nOnce again, then, I reached my home. All was still; but soon Mrs. Mason\ncame down. Before I could speak, she said, \"Mary is better, James; she\nhas fallen into a nice sleep.\" She spoke kindly, and looked kindly. I\ntried to answer her, but my feelings choked me; and seeing my effort to\nsuppress them, she continued, \"God has dealt very mercifully, James,\ntowards you, in so blessing the means that have been used; but you have\nhad no supper; you will find some nice warm soup by the side of the fire\nthere; Mrs. Wright sent it in for you, by her husband, when she returned\nhome: come, James, eat it while it is warm, it will do you good; your\nlittle girl and boy have both had some, and they are now warm in bed and\nfast asleep.\"\n\n\"Mr. and Mrs. Wright are very kind,\" I added, \"and you are kind; what\nshould I have done but for you and them?\"\n\n\"Done, James?\" said she mildly; \"done, James? see how God orders his\ndispensations; 'in the midst of wrath he remembers mercy,' and I trust\nhe has purposes of mercy in this event towards you and your family; but\nbeware, James, for the Bible expressly says, 'My son, despise not the\nchastening of the Lord;' and again, 'whom the Lord loveth, he\nchasteneth.' But eat your supper; I will step up stairs and see if your\nwife is still sleeping, and if she is, I will come down and chat a\nlittle with you.\"\n\nAs she went softly up stairs my eyes followed her, and I said to myself,\nThis is one of your religious ones, is it, that I have so often joined\nin jeering at? Surely I ate my supper with a thankful heart, and was\nmuch strengthened by it. Mrs. Mason soon returned, and stepping into the\nback room, where Jane lay, and her little brother, brought out three or\nfour billets of wood, and a cheerful fire was soon made; so that with my\nwarm, nourishing supper, the cheerful fire, and Mrs. Mason's mild and\ncheerful countenance and manner, I regained my spirits, and a\nconsiderable portion of my strength. After a little pause, she said,\n\n\"James, when Mary recovers, if it should please God to order it so,\ngreat care will be required lest she should relapse. You would not wish\nto lose her, James; she has, I believe, been a kind and affectionate\nwife to you, and a tender mother to your children. When you were first\nmarried every thing went well with you, and it was a remark I often made\nof you as a neighbor, that you wanted nothing but the true fear of God\nin your heart, and faith in our blessed Saviour, to make you a pattern\nto all around you. I used often to say a few words to Mary, and she\nalways received them meekly, but I seldom saw you, and your manner never\ngave me any encouragement to talk to you on religious subjects. James,\nexperience has enabled me to make one remark, that _absence from divine\nworship_, as a regular or customary thing, is an almost unerring sign of\nthe absence of religion from the heart; and it is indeed seldom that I\nhave seen you in your place on the Sabbath-day. The Sabbath is a blessed\nday when it is spent aright.\" So leaving me, she again went up stairs,\nremarking that Mr. Wright had been home to her house, to explain the\ncause of her absence, (and as I tolerably well guessed, this partly\nexplained the mystery of fire and candle, and tea and sugar, and bread,)\nadding, \"Mrs. Wright will come in at daylight, and will stay with Mary,\nand that will allow me to attend to my morning's business: you know,\nJames, the Bible says, 'diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving\nthe Lord.'\"\n\nI longed to go and see my poor Mary, but I was not asked, and I supposed\nit right that it should be so. I now thought of my poor children; and\ngoing into their room, I felt distressed to find them so badly provided\nwith bed-clothes. I kissed them, and secretly prayed, in a kind of way,\nthat I might be spared to care more for them than I had lately done. I\nsat down, and began to reflect upon all the circumstances of the past\nday, and of this eventful night; but I soon fell into a sound sleep,\nwhich continued until Mrs. Mason awoke me, informing me that it was\nnearly daylight, and reminded me of her intentions to return home to her\nduties as soon as Mrs. Wright should arrive. \"And why wait for Mrs.\nWright, madam?\" said I; \"surely I can attend upon Mary now, or at least\nuntil Mrs. Wright does come.\" \"It is very natural,\" said Mrs. Mason,\n\"that you should desire to attend upon your wife, and think yourself\ncapable of doing so; but my most particular directions from the doctor\nwere, not to allow you to see your wife, if I could prevent you, until\nhe had seen her once more; and you may remember, James, in how grave a\nmanner he directed she might not in any way be teazed, nor--but, James,\nto deal honestly with you, and rightly as I consider it, whatever may be\nyour future conduct to your wife, your behavior to her for these last\nthree years has not been quite kind; and as grief and depression have\nvery much to do with her present illness, we are all of opinion that you\nhad better refrain from going to see her until she is more composed. You\nhave bruised, James; seek now to heal.\"\n\nI was touched with the reproof; I was, perhaps, more touched by the\nmanner. Mrs. Mason was one who sought to win souls: she won my esteem\nand confidence, and I felt that if Mrs. Mason could talk to me thus, I\nhad still something to lose. I went to call Mrs. Wright. On my return,\nMrs. Mason was up stairs, but she had placed nearly a whole loaf and a\npiece of butter on the table, and some tea and sugar, and the kettle was\nsinging by the fireside. These were times of deep thought to me. On Mrs.\nWright's arrival, I thanked her for her great kindness, and hoped better\ntimes were in store. \"Yes,\" she replied, \"better times may be in store\nfor you; I hope they are; you have certainly bought your corn at a very\ndear market lately, but you _may_ find a better one to go to yet.\" Mrs.\nMason now appeared, and ready to go home; the morning had just fully\ndawned. \"Come, James,\" said she, \"you must go with me; I want to send\nback a few things to Mary; and mind, you must not leave the house to-day\nafter your return, and your little girl ought to be sent to account for\nyour absence from work--that is, James, if--\"\n\n\"If, madam?\" said I quickly; \"if what?\"\n\n\"Yes, James, if you think you can maintain a new character, and desire\nreally to become again, what I well remember you once was, a respectable\nman; yes, James, a respectable man; for remember, that word is the just\nright of every man who acts as every man ought to do. The word seems to\nsurprise you: it is a sad mistake that seems insensibly to have crept\ninto common acceptance in these days, that respectability must mean\nsomething belonging rather to riches and rank, than honesty and\nuprightness of character; respectability is as much the birthright of\nyourself as of young 'squire Mills; indeed, I may say that on this\npoint, you both started in life exactly equal: his father was indeed\nrespectable in every sense of the word; and your father was certainly\nnothing behind him; both faithfully discharged the duties of that\nstation 'into which it pleased God to call them,' and this I consider,\nfrom the king to the cottager, is to be respectable; but, James, the\nyoung 'squire is as _respectable_ a man, I am happy to say, as his\nfather was, and why should not you become as respectable as yours? I\nhave lived to see many changes, but the change I most mourn over, is the\nchange of principle in my neighbors. Their respectability seems to be\nexchanged for finer clothes and fewer fireside, fewer home comforts; and\nI happen also to know, that if very much of the grain that has been made\ninto poisonous beer and whiskey had been made into good wholesome bread,\nboth you and I, James, should have been better off, I think, than we are\nnow, for I have had my struggles as well as you; so have many others. I\nhave worked early and late, taking care of _the pence_, to maintain my\nrespectability; yet, let me again repeat it, your father and mother were\nrespectable to the day of their death, and many in this village would\ngladly see their only child following their footsteps, and seeking the\nsame inheritance they now possess 'in mansions in the skies.' But the\nroad leads down hill to vice and folly, and I might add, the gulf of\nruin lies at the bottom; you may be far down it; I fear you are, yet\nthere is a hand that even now beckons to you, and says, 'Turn, turn, I\nhave no pleasure in the death of him that dieth; wherefore turn and\nlive:' but, James, you are not ignorant of your Bible.\"\n\nI tried to conceal my emotions, for it was a very long time since I had\nheard such words as these. My Bible and the house of God had been long\nentirely neglected. Mrs. Mason perceived that I was affected, and moving\ntowards the door, said, \"Yes, James, it is a slippery, down-hill path\nthat leads to ruin, and many there be that walk therein. Heaven may be\nsaid to lie upward, yet 'its ways are ways of pleasantness, and all its\npaths are peace.' But come, it is broad daylight, and I must hasten\nhome.\"\n\nAs we passed neighbor Wright's cottage, I had not forgotten the comfort\nthat was within, and I said secretly, \"I'll see what's to be done.\" The\narrival of Mrs. Mason at home seemed to give to all the liveliest\npleasure and satisfaction; and their inquiries after my poor wife were\nmade with a kindliness of manner that surprised me. \"They respect her,\"\nsaid I to myself; they took little notice of me, yet treated me with\nmore civility than I had a right to expect. Mrs. Mason soon put up a few\nlittle things and directed me to give them to Mrs. Wright, and weighing\nme a pound of bacon, and putting a large loaf and half a pound of cheese\ninto the basket with it, with some soap and candles, said, \"I shall\ncharge _these_ to your bill, James. Patty, go into the garden and cut\nJames a couple of nice cabbages; I dare say he will know what to do with\nthem.\" Having had this unexpected provision made me for the day, and\nreceiving parting words of encouragement from this kind friend, I\nreturned home. I found my children up and washed, and breakfast ready.\nMrs. Wright had kindly done this. Jane looked cheerful, and my little\nHarry came edging towards me, as if he did not know what to make of all\nthis. \"Mother's so ill, Jane says, father--is she; is she, father?\"\nlooking up in my face as I sat down, \"is she?\"\n\n\"She is better now, my boy,\" I said.\n\n\"Better, father? who made her ill? _you_ didn't make her ill, did you,\nfather--nice bread, father--did mother bring this nice bread home,\nfather? speak, father, you don't speak.\"\n\nI could not trust myself to answer; so I rose, for I was much affected\nat the thought that Mrs. Mason had cared for these babes and their\nmother, but I had neglected them, and foolishly squandered away their\ncomforts and even their necessary bread.\n\nMrs. Wright went home; but returned soon after we had finished\nbreakfast; and by the time I had put things a little to rights, the\ndoctor called. His \"Well, James,\" filled me with no very pleasing\nsensations. \"I hope we shall have a change, eh, James?\" and passing on,\nwent up stairs. Ah, thought I, I hope so too, for I know what you mean.\nHe soon came down; said my wife might get up if she liked, taking a\nlittle care, and, \"after to-day, give her a pill every noon for dinner\noff a loin of mutton, eh, James? A few more broiled pills for _her_,\nand a pint less of liquor for _you_, and your old father and mother\nwould soon come to life again. _Your_ savings' bank is at the tavern,\nand the landlady of the Stag keeps your accounts, I believe, eh, James?\nI shall charge you nothing for this.\" This was the doctor. I received\nhis reproofs humbly, and certainly thought, you have been very kind, but\nI also thought, you are not Mrs. Mason.\n\nSoon after this, my poor Mary came down stairs, and I at once confessed\nmy sorrow for my past conduct, and my determination to _drink no more_;\nand, to conclude, my wife slowly recovered, and, I may add, I recovered\nalso; but I was very far down the hill, and consequently found it a long\nand hard tug to get up again; but Mrs. Mason encouraged me, Mrs. Wright\nhelped me, the doctor cheered me, Mr. Armstrong praised me, our kind\nminister instructed me, my wife assisted me, and, as a crowning point of\nall, the blessing of God rested on me. I worked hard, I prayed in my\nfamily, I paid my debts, I clothed my children, I redeemed my bed, I\nmended my windows, I planted my garden and sold garden stuff, instead of\nbuying; I bought me a wheel-barrow, I mended my chairs and table, I got\nme a clock; and now here I am, but never shall I forget John Wright or\nhis wife, how long soever I may remember my other kind friends, and most\nof all, Mrs. Mason. But there were no temperance societies in those\ndays, or I think I should have been reclaimed sooner.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\nLOST MECHANIC RESTORED.\n\n[Illustration: Reformed drunk re-employed]\n\n\nNear the close of 1831, says Mr. C----, of Hartford, Conn., I was\nrequested by a pious and benevolent lady, to take into my employ a young\nman who had become intemperate. I objected that the influence of such a\nman would be injurious to my other workmen, and especially my\napprentices. But the kind-hearted lady urged her request, saying that he\nwas willing to come under an engagement not to drink at all, and to\nconform strictly to all the regulations of the establishment; that she\nreceived him into her family when a boy, and felt a deep interest in his\nwelfare; that he had learned a trade, and was an excellent workman; had\nbecome hopefully pious, and united with one of our churches; had married\na very worthy young woman, but his intemperance had blasted his fair\nprospects. He was now sensible of his danger; and she believed his\nsalvation for this, if not for a future world, would turn on my\ndecision.\n\nI consented to make the trial; and he came, binding himself, by a\nwritten contract, to receive no part of his wages into his own hands,\nand to forfeit whatever should be due to him, in case he became\nintoxicated. He succeeded remarkably in my business, was industrious and\nfaithful, and strictly temperate and regular in all his habits.\n\nBut in the summer of 1832, he was by some means induced to taste again\nan intoxicating drink, and a fit of drunken insanity ensued, which\ncontinued about a fortnight. Knowing that his wife had some money, he\ngave her no peace, day nor night, till he got possession of it. He then\ntook the boat for New York, spent the money, and after bartering some of\nhis clothes, returned, a most destitute and wretched object.\n\nAfter he had become sober and rational once more, I happened to meet him\nin the street, and asked him why he did not come to work as usual. With\na voice trembling and suppressed, and with a look of grief,\nself-reproach, and despair that I shall never forget, he said, \"I can\nnever come into your shop again. I have not only violated my contract\nwith you, but I have treated you with the basest ingratitude, proved\nmyself unworthy of your confidence, and destroyed the last hope of my\nreformation.\"\n\nI assured him of my increased desire for his welfare; he returned to his\nemployment, and his attention to business evinced the sincerity of his\nconfessions.\n\nBut not more than three months had elapsed before he was taken again in\nthe toils of his old deceiver; and at this time he was so furious and\nunmanageable, that he was arrested and committed to the workhouse. He\nwas soon released, and engaged once more in my business. He continued\nfor about two months, when he fell again; and after a frenzy of a week,\ncame to me and begged me to take him to the workhouse, as the only means\nby which he should get sober. He remained there a few days, and then\nreturned to his work.\n\nSuch was his history: a few months sober, industrious, and obliging in\nmy shop; kind, attentive, and affectionate in his family; then a week\nfuriously drunk, absent from my shop, violent and abusive in his family;\nthen at the workhouse; and then sober, and at home again.\n\nHe had already been excommunicated from the church for his intemperance,\nhad become a terror to his wife, who frequently sent for me to protect\nher from his violence, and seemed to be utterly abandoned.\n\nIn the month of May, 1833, he was again missing; and no one, not even\nhis wife, knew what had become of him. But in the course of the summer\nshe received a letter from him, in which he said he had got employment,\nand wished her, without informing me where he was, to come and live with\nhim. She accordingly removed to his new residence, and I heard nothing\nfrom either of them.\n\nAbout two years and a half after this, he came into my shop one day; but\nhow changed. Instead of the bloated, wild, and despairing countenance\nthat once marked him as a drunkard, he now wore an aspect of\ncheerfulness and health, of manliness and self-respect. I approached,\ntook him by the hand, and said, \"Well, ----, how do you do?\" \"_I am\nwell_,\" said he, shaking my hand most cordially. \"Yes,\" said I, \"well in\nmore respects than one.\" \"_Yes, I am_,\" was his emphatic reply. \"_It is\nnow more than two years since I have tasted a drop of any thing that can\nintoxicate._\" He began by abstaining from ardent spirits only; \"But,\"\nsaid he, \"I soon found that what you had so often told me was true; that\nI could not reform but by abstaining from all that can intoxicate. I\nhave done so, and you see the result.\"\n\nI then inquired after the health of his wife and child: his reply was,\n\"They are well and happy.\" I asked him if \"his wife made him any\ntrouble\" now. \"Trouble,\" said he, \"no; and never did make any: it was I\nthat made the trouble. You told me so, and I knew it at the time. _But\nwhat could I do?_ So long as I remained here, I could not turn a corner\nin your streets without passing a grog-shop. I could not go to my meals\nwithout coming in contact with some associate who would try to entice me\nto drink with him; and even the keepers of these shops would try every\nartifice to induce me to drink; for they knew that if they could get me\nto taste once, I should never know when to stop, and they would be sure\nto get a good bill against me.\n\n\"I have now come,\" said he, \"to tell you why I left you. It was because\nI knew that I should die if I did not leave off drinking, and I saw\ndistinctly that I could never leave off while I remained in Hartford. My\nonly hope was, in going where liquor was not to be had.\"\n\nAbout two years and a half after this, he applied to me for further\nemployment, as the business he was following had failed. I told him\nthere was no man whom I should rather employ, but I could not think of\nhaving him encounter again the temptations which he had so miraculously\nescaped. He very pleasantly replied, \"I am a man now, and do not believe\nI have any thing more to fear from the temptations of the city than you\nhave.\"\n\nI told him that I had confidence in the firmness of his purpose, but\nfeared to see it put to the test. Yet, as he was out of business, I\nconsented; and no man that I ever employed did better, or was more\ndeserving of confidence and respect. He continued with me till spring,\nwhen he proposed to take his work into the country, so that he could be\nwith his family: the arrangement was made, and I employ him still.\n\nOn the fourth of July last, (1839,) the Sunday-schools in the town where\nhe resides made arrangements for a celebration, and I was invited to be\npresent and address them. As I looked upon the audience, the first\ncountenance that met my eye was that of this very man, _at the head of\nhis Sunday-school class_. The sight almost overwhelmed me. Instead of a\nloathsome, drunken maniac--a terror to his family and a curse to\nsociety, whose very presence was odious, and his example\npestilential--he was then, in the expressive language of Scripture,\n\"clothed, and in his right mind;\" and was devoted to the heavenly work\nof guiding children to Christ and salvation. He had made a public\nprofession of religion, which he was daily honoring by a life of\nChristian meekness and sobriety.\n\nO, who can comprehend the tide of domestic joy, of social happiness, and\nof Christian consolation which flows through the heart of this man and\nhis family, in consequence of this change in his habits?\n\nNow, what was the cause of this surprising change? What wrought this\nwonderful transformation in this individual? The whole story is told in\none short line. _He went where intoxicating liquor was not sold._ Had he\nremained in this city, he would probably long since have been laid in\nthe drunkard's grave.\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nREFORMATION OF DRUNKARDS.\n\n\nTruly we live in an age of wonders. Under peculiar influences, hundreds\nand thousands of once hopeless drunkards are becoming sober men--yet the\nwork of reform has but commenced. It is computed that there are in the\nland no less than five hundred thousand habitual inebriates. The\ncondition of each individual calls for sympathy and aid, that he may\nbecome a sober man, and through the blessing of God, gain eternal life.\n\nFor drunkenness there is and can be no apology; but the condition of the\ndrunkard is often pitiable in the extreme. However gradual, or\nrespectable, may have been his progress in the descent called _temperate\ndrinking_, the appetite now _is formed_ within him--the drunkard's\nappetite. Wretched man! He feels what not faintly resembles the gnawing\nof \"the worm that never dies.\" He asks for help. There are times when he\nwould give worlds to be reformed. Every drunkard's life, could it be\nwritten, would tell this in letters of fire. He struggles to resist the\ntemptation, causes himself to be shut up in prison, throws himself on\nboard a temperance ship for a distant voyage, seeks new alliances and\nnew employments, wrestles, agonizes, but all in vain. He rises to-day\nbut to fall to-morrow; and amid disappointment and reproach, poverty and\ndegradation, he says, \"Let me alone, I cannot live,\" and plunges\nheadlong to destruction.\n\nWho will come to his rescue? Who will aid in the deliverance of\nthousands of thousands from this debasing thraldom of sin and Satan? Our\naid they must have.\n\nTheir _number_ demands it. Half a million, chiefly adults, often heads\nof families, having each a wife and children, making miserable a million\nand a half of relatives and friends. They pass, too, in rapid\nsuccession. Ten years is the measure of a generation, and if nothing is\ndone to save them, in the next forty years two millions may be swept\ninto eternity.\n\nTheir personal degradation and suffering require it. What would we not\ndo to pull a neighbor out of the water, or out of the fire, or to\ndeliver him from Algerine captivity, or wrest him from the hand of a\npirate or midnight assassin? But what captivity, what pirate, what\nmurderer so cruel as Alcohol?\n\nTheir _families_ plead for it. The innocent and the helpless, the lambs,\nin the paw of the tiger, and that tiger a husband and father. Amid\nhungering and thirsting, cold and nakedness, humiliation and shame,\nsufferings which no pen can describe, they ask for aid.\n\n_The good of the community_ demands it. While they live as they do, they\nare only a moth and a curse. The moment they are reformed, society is\nrelieved of its greatest burden. The poor-house and the jail become\nalmost tenantless.\n\n_The practicability of a sudden and complete reform of every drunkard in\nthe land_ calls for it. This, science has denied. Religion has only\nsaid, \"With man it is impossible, but not with God; for with God all\nthings are possible.\" But science yields to experiment, and religion\nmarches on joyful in the footsteps of Providence. Thousands among us\nsay, \"How it has been done, we know not. One thing we know, that whereas\nonce we were drunkards, now we are sober men.\"\n\nBut above all, _the salvation of the soul_ makes it indispensable.\nTemperance is not religion. Outward reformation is not religion; but by\nthis reform a great obstacle is removed, and thousands of these\nmiserable men may be brought into the kingdom of God. The strong chain\nthat has been thrown around them by the \"prince of the power of the\nair,\" is broken. They may be approached as they never could be before.\nConviction of sin is fastened upon their conscience. Gratitude inspires\ntheir bosoms. Good men are, of choice, their companions. The dram-shop\nis exchanged for the house of God. A Bible is purchased. Their little\nones they bring to the door of the Sabbath-school. They flee affrighted\nfrom the pit; and, through grace, many lift up their hands imploringly\nto heaven, as the only refuge for the outcast, the home for the weary.\nThis has been the operation of the reform in England. Of thirty-five\nthousand reformed drunkards in that country, fifty-six hundred have\nbecome members of Christian churches, having hope in God and joy in the\nHoly Ghost. So it has been in Scotland; many there now sing of grace\nand glory. So it manifestly is in America, and so will it be more and\nmore around the world, as ministers and Christians meet them in kindness\nand lead them to the waters of salvation.\n\nBut what can we do? How can we aid the poor unfortunate drunkard? This\nis the question.\n\nAll can do a little. Some can do much. Every man can get out of the way\nof his reform; cease setting him an example which proves his ruin; cease\nselling him an article which is death to the soul; discountenance the\ndrinking usages of society, and those licensed and unlicensed dram-shops\nwhich darken the land. Every man can speak an encouraging word to the\nwretched inebriate; tell him of what is doing in the land, allure him\nand go with him to the temperance-meeting, and urge him to sign the\npledge; and when he has signed, comfort and strengthen him, give him\nemployment, give him clothing; and if he falls, raise him up, and if he\nfalls seven times, raise him up and forgive him.\n\nTry it, Christian brother. I know your heart beats in gratitude to God\nfor what he has done; that he has raised up a new instrumentality for\nrescuing thousands of our race from the lowest degradation. It is a\ntoken of good for our country and the world. Enter into this field of\nlabor. \"You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ; that though he was\nrich, yet for our sakes he became poor, that we through his poverty\nmight become rich.\" Go imitate his example; become poor, if need be, to\nsave the lost. \"Go out into the highways and hedges, and compel them to\ncome in.\"\n\nTry it, Christian philanthropist. \"It is good neither to eat flesh, nor\nto drink wine, nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is\noffended, or made weak.\" Sacrifices make the world happy, and God\nglorious.\n\nTry it, Christian female. It is work for your sex. Woman is the greatest\nsufferer from intemperance: driven by it from her home; made an outcast\nfrom all the comforts of domestic love, while her babes cry for bread,\nand she has no relief. Lost men will listen to your words of kindness,\nbe cheered by your benefactions, encouraged by your smiles.\n\nTry it, young men. Have you no companions early palsied, withered, and\nscathed by alcoholic fires, treading now on the verge of the drunkard's\ngrave? Go after them in their misery. Go, thanking God that you are not\nas they are. Go, believing that you may save them; that they will\nreceive you thankfully; that they must have your help, or be lost. Go,\nand be strong in this work. The movements of Providence call you to\neffort for the unfortunate and wretched, that you may pull them out of\nthe fire. What you do in the blessed work, do quickly. O, if it be in\nyour power to save one young man, do it quickly. Run and speak to that\nyoung man. He will thank you for it. His father will thank you. His\nmother will thank you. His sisters will thank you. His immortal soul,\nrescued and saved, will love you for ever.\n\n\nTO THE POOR UNFORTUNATE DRUNKARD.\n\nMY FRIEND AND BROTHER--You are poor and wretched. A horrid appetite\nhurries you on in the road to ruin. Abroad you are despised. Home is a\ndesolation. A heart-broken wife weeps over you, yet does not forsake\nyou. She hopes, she waits for your reform and for better days.\nConscience bids you stop. But appetite, companions, and custom say, _One\nglass more_. That is a fatal glass. You rise but to fall again, and you\nfeel that you can never reform. But you CAN REFORM. Thousands and\nthousands around you have reformed, and would not for worlds go back to\ndrinking. They are happy at home; respected abroad; well dressed; well\nemployed; have no thirst for the dreadful cup. They feel for you. They\nsay, \"Come thou with us, and we will do thee good.\" Come _sign the\npledge_, the pledge of total abstinence. In this is your only hope. This\nis a certain cure. Touch not, taste not, handle not rum, brandy,\nwhiskey, wine, cider, beer, or any thing that intoxicates, and you will\nbe a new man, a happy man. Begin now. Try it now in the strength of the\nLord. From this good hour resolve that none of these accursed drinks\nshall ever enter your lips. The struggle may be severe, but it will soon\nbe over. Say then, \"Come life, come death, by the help of God I will be\nfree.\"\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n\n\nTOM STARBOARD\n\nAND\n\nJACK HALYARD.\n\nA NAUTICAL TEMPERANCE DIALOGUE.\n\n[Illustration: Tom Starboard and Jack Halyard]\n\n\nJACK. Halloo, shipmate; what cheer? Mayhap, however, you\ndon't choose to remember an old crony.\n\nTOM. Why, Jack, is that you? Well, I must say, that if you hadn't hailed\nme I should have sailed by without knowing you. How you're altered! Who\nwould have supposed that this weather-beaten hulk was my old messmate\nJack Halyard, with whom I've soaked many a hard biscuit, and weathered\nmany a tough gale on old Ocean? and then you used to be as trim in your\nrigging as the Alert herself; but now it's as full of ends as the old\nWilmington brig that we used to crack so many jokes about at Barbadoes.\nGive me another grip, my hearty, and tell me how you come on.\n\nJACK. Bad enough, Tom--bad enough. I'm very glad, however, to overhaul\nyou again, and to find you so merry, and looking so fat and hearty. The\nworld must have gone well with you, Tom.\n\nTOM. You may well say that, Jack, and no mistake. The world has gone\nwell with me. My appetite is good, my sleep sound; and I always take\ncare to have a shot in the locker, and let alone a snug little sum in\nthe seamen's savings-bank, that I've stowed away for squally times, or\nwhen I get old, so as to be independent of hospitals and retreats, and\nall that sort of thing. And what's more to the purpose, Jack, I try to\nhave a clean conscience--the most comfortable of all; don't you think\nso?\n\nJACK. Why yes, Tom, I do think that a clean conscience must be a very\ncomfortable thing for a man to have. But I can't brag much of mine\nnow-a-days; it gives me a deal of trouble sometimes.\n\nTOM. Ah, that's bad, Jack--very bad. But come, let me hear something\nabout you since we parted, some four years or so ago. Where have you\nlast been, in what craft, etc.? Give me a long yarn: you used to be a\nfamous hand at spinning long yarns, you know, Jack. Don't you remember\nhow angry old copper-nosed Grimes used to get when the larboard watch\nturned in, and, instead of sleeping, we made you go ahead with the story\nyou were on, which made him wish us all at Davy Jones' locker? Ha, ha,\nha.\n\nJACK. O yes, Tom, I remember it all very well; but--\n\nTOM. And then, don't you recollect how we used to skylark in the lee\nscuppers with those jolly fellows, Buntline and Reeftackle, until the\nLuff had to hail, and send a Middy with his _compliments_ to the\n_gentlemen_ of the larboard watch, and to say, that if _quite agreeable\nto them_, less noise would be desirable? I say, Jack, you seem to have\nforgotten all these funny times in the Alert. Cheer up, man; don't be\ndownhearted. Give me your flipper again; and if you are really in\ntrouble, you may be sure, that as long as your old messmate Tom\nStarboard has a shot in the locker, or a drop of blood in his veins,\nhe'll stand by Jack Halyard--aye, aye, to the last.\n\nJACK. Thank you, Tom--thank you. You were always an honest fellow, and\nmeant what you said; so let us steer for the sign of \"The Jolly Tar,\"\nround the corner, and over a bowl of hot flip we'll talk over old times,\nand--\n\nTOM. Avast there, Jack--avast, my hearty. None of your hot flip, or cold\nflip, or any other kind of flip for me. \"The burnt child dreads the\nfire,\" as the old proverb says; and I am the child that was once pretty\nwell scorched: but now I give it a wide berth. If you will come with me\nto my quiet boarding-house, \"THE SAILOR'S HOME,\" I will be very glad to\ncrack a joke with you; but you won't catch me in any such place as \"The\nJolly Tar,\" I can tell you. I mind what the old Philadelphia Quaker said\nto his son, who, as he was once coming out of a house of ill-fame, spied\nold Broadbrim heaving in sight, and immediately wore ship. The old chap,\nhowever, who always kept his weather-eye open, had had a squint of young\ngraceless, and so up helm and hard after he cracked, and following him\nin, hailed him with, \"Ah, Obadiah, Obadiah, thee should never be\nashamed of _coming out_--thee should always be ashamed of _going in_.\"\nNo, no, Jack, I side with friend Broadbrim: I won't enter such places.\n\nJACK. Well, I don't know, Tom, but that you are about half right. I\nthink, myself, that \"The Jolly Tar\" is not what it's cracked up to be. I\nam sure that neither the landlord nor the landlady look half as kindly\non me as they did when I first came in, with plenty of money in my\npocket. Indeed, they have been pretty rough within the last few days,\nand tell me that I must ship, as they want my advance towards the score\nrun up, of the most of which I am sure I know nothing; but it's always\nthe way.\n\nTOM. Yes, Jack, it's always the way with such folks. The poor tar is\nwelcomed and made much of as long as his pockets are well lined; but let\nthem begin to lighten, and then the smiles begin to slacken off; and\nwhen the rhino is all gone, poor Jack, who was held up as such a great\nman, is frowned upon, and at last kicked out of doors: or if, mayhap,\nthey have let him run up a score, he is hastily shipped off, perhaps\nhalf naked, and the advance is grabbed by the hard-hearted landlord, who\nmade poor Jack worse than a brute with his maddening poison. Oh, Jack,\nhow my heart has bled at witnessing the cruel impositions practised upon\nour poor brother sailors by these harpies. But come, I want to hear all\nabout my old messmate. If I am not greatly out of my reckoning, grog is\nat the bottom of all your troubles, and long faces, and sighs, and\ngroans. Cheer up, Jack, and unbosom yourself to your old friend and\npitcher.\n\nJACK. Well, Tom, as I know you to be a sincere fellow, I will unbosom\nmyself. You were never nearer your right latitude than when you said\nthat grog was at the bottom of my troubles. Yes, grog has pretty nearly\nused up poor Jack Halyard. A few years ago I was a light-hearted, happy\nfellow, and only drank because others did--not that I liked the taste\nparticularly in those days, but I did it for good-fellowship, as it was\ncalled; and moreover, I did not like to seem odd; and when I shipped on\nboard the man-of-war, where it was served out to us twice a day, I soon\nbecame fond of it. And you know we both used to long for the sun to get\nabove the fore-yard, and for the afternoon middle watch, that we might\nsplice the main-brace. Sure I am that it was _there_ I first took a\nliking to the stuff; and O, Tom, don't you think the government will\nhave much to answer for, in putting temptation in the way of us poor\nsailors? Instead of being our protector, it is our seducer. Our blood\nwill stick in its skirts.\n\nTOM. Yes, Jack, I think that Uncle Sam has a great deal to answer for on\nthat tack; and I can say, too, that the love of rum that I acquired in\nthe government service had pretty nearly fixed my flint, both for this\nworld and the next. But still, Jack, it wont do for seamen to drink grog\nbecause the government supplies it, and think to excuse themselves by\nblaming it. No, no; that is a poor excuse. Men who brave the dangers of\nthe mighty deep, as our class do, and face death in every form with\nunshrinking courage, ought to be able to resist such a temptation. It\nwill be a poor reason to hand in to the Almighty when the angel summons\nall hands before his dread tribunal, in palliation of our drunkenness\nand the sins committed by us when under the influence of liquor, that\nthe government, instead of comforting us, and fortifying us against heat\nand cold, etc., with coffee, and tea, and other wholesome small stores,\npoisoned our bodies and souls with vile rum. No, indeed, Jack, that will\navail us naught in that awful day; and it will be poor consolation _in\nthe drunkard's hell_, to blame the government. But go on.\n\nJACK. Well, when the Alert's cruise was up, and we were paid off, about\na dozen of us went to lodge with old Peter Hardheart, at the sign of the\nFoul Anchor; and as we had plenty of money, we thought we would have a\nregular blow-out. So Peter got a fiddler and some other unmentionable\nrequisites for a jig, and we had a set-to in firstrate style. Why, our\ngreat frolic at Santa Martha, when Paddy Chips, the Irish carpenter,\ndanced away his watch, and jacket, and tarpaulin, and nearly all his\ntoggery, you know, and next morning came scudding along the beach\ntowards the Alert, as she lay moored near shore, and crept on board on\nall-fours, like a half-drowned monkey, along the best bower, wouldn't\nhave made a nose to it. Well, next morning I had a pretty smart touch of\nthe horrors, and felt rather muddy about the head; but old Peter soon\nset us agoing again, and we kept it up for three days and three nights,\ncarriage-riding, and dancing, and drinking, and theatre-going, etc.; and\nwe thought the world was too little for us: when all at once old\nHardheart took a round turn on us with, \"I'll tell you what it is, you\ndrunken swabs, I'll not have such goings-on in my house--my house is a\ndecent house--you must all ship; yes, ship's the word. I must have the\nadvance--you're more than a month's wages apiece in my debt.\" Tom, I was\nsober in an instant. My conscience smote me. In three days I had\nsquandered the wages of a three years' cruise, and had not a dollar left\nto take to my poor old mother in the country, whom I had intended to go\nto see after the frolic was over, and give all my money to. O Tom, what\na poor, pitiful, sneaking wretch I felt that I was. The two letters that\nI had received from her during my absence--so kind, so affectionate,\nand so full of fervent prayers to God that her poor boy might be\npreserved from the temptations that beset the sailor, and be brought\nsafely back to her widowed arms--rushed to my remembrance, and\noverwhelmed me with grief; and I--I, who ought to have denied myself\neven innocent gratification until I had ministered to her wants, had\nforgotten the best of mothers, and had spent all of my hard earnings\nwith the vilest of the vile.\n\nTOM. Poor Jack, my heart bleeds for you; but cheer up, and go on.\n\nJACK. Well, to shorten a long story, I was the next day bundled, when\nabout three sheets in the wind, on board a merchantman, with an empty\nchest, although it was winter, old Hardheart nabbing the whole of my\nadvance; and for two or three days, Tom, I suffered awfully from the\nhorrors. I thought I was already in the hell to which the wicked who\ndon't repent must go. Awake, asleep, at the helm, on the yard, in the\nstorm, in the calm, everywhere I was haunted with the remembrance of my\ningratitude to my poor dear mother--to her who had watched over me in\nhelpless infancy and childhood; who had prayed over and for me so much;\nwho had pinched herself to give me a snug outfit when I first went to\nsea; and who I knew had strained her poor old eyes in watching for the\nloved form of her Jack--for the papers must have apprised her of the\narrival of the Alert two days after we got in. But, dear old woman, she\nwatched in vain; Jack had forgotten his best friend; he had herded with\nbeasts, and had became a beast himself. O Tom, what a miserable wretch I\nwas. I sometimes tried to read in the Bible that she had given me, but\nit seemed as if every verse was a fiery scorpion stinging me for my\ncrimes and ingratitude. As the ship in which I was, sailed under the\ntemperance clause, I could get no liquor on board, and I determined to\nshun the accursed thing ever after; to turn over a new leaf in my\nlog-book of life; to save my money; and to become a steady, sober lad,\nso that I might after a while be made a mate, and then a master, and\nhave a shot in the locker for my dear old mother. These good resolutions\nlasted as long as I had no liquor; but you will see that they vanished\nlike smoke when I came ashore, on the return of the vessel. As the wind\nwas light in the bay in coming up, we were boarded by several boats from\nsailor boarding-houses, and among the rest by old Hardheart. When I saw\nhim I fairly gritted my teeth with rage, for I had not forgotten how he\ntreated me before; but he came up to me in so kind a manner, and\ninquired so affectionately after my health, and seemed to feel such a\nreal interest in me, that I swallowed all his blarney and coaxing, and\nat last agreed to stop with him again for the night that I would be in\nthe city, intending, the moment that we should be paid off next day, to\nsteer straight for my old mother, if, mayhap, my cruelty had not broken\nher heart; and moreover, determining not to drink a drop of liquor in\nhis house.\n\nTOM. Dear Jack, I trust that you were able to keep that resolution.\n\nJACK. You shall hear, Tom. When we got to old Peter's, I found, as\nusual, a good many people in the house; and the old woman and the girls\nwere rejoiced to see me again, as they made out. The old woman at once\nproposed that we should celebrate my safe return in the big punch-bowl;\nbut Peter said, \"No, Jack has turned cold-water man, and he can't drink;\nbut we'll drink for him.\" I observed that Peter sneered whilst he said\nthis, and so did all the rest, and it galled me a good deal. While the\npunch was brewing, some of the men whispered, \"_White-liver_\"--\"_poor\nsneak_\"--\"_no sailor_;\" and after the punch had passed round amongst\nthem once or twice, I thought I would just take _one swig_, to show them\nthat I was not the poor sneak they took me for, and no more. But, Tom,\nthat one swig sealed my doom: THE DANGER'S ALWAYS IN THE FIRST GLASS.\nThe men cheered, and said they knew I was a man, and a _real seaman_, by\nthe cut of my jib, and that I was too good for the Temperance Society;\nand the girls cast sheep's-eyes at me, and said that I was just the chap\nto run away with a woman's heart, and that my eyes were not made for the\ngood of my soul, and such-like foolish and wicked talk. My weak head\ncould not stand the punch, nor my vain heart the flattery, and I was\nsoon regularly used up. Instead of having a dollar to take home to my\npoor old mother, I found myself, in a few days, the second time\npenniless; was forced to ship again; got back; the same scenes were\nacted over; and here I am, the miserable wretch that you see me--light\nin purse, sick in body, and tormented in mind; the past a curse, the\nfuture despair.\n\nTOM. Well, Jack, I must say, that your case is hard enough. But don't\ndespair, my boy. Many a poor fellow who has hung to a plank in mid-ocean\nuntil he thought it was surely all over with him, has been picked up and\nsaved. The same kind Providence who has watched over us, and preserved\nus in so many dangers, will not desert us. What we have to do is, to\nturn from every evil way, and humbly trusting in the merits of Christ\nour Saviour, look up to him for mercy, repent of all sin, and resolve,\nin his strength, to fear and obey him in future. And I trust, Jack, that\nall will yet be well with you; and I rejoice that I have wherewithal to\ngive you a lift towards fitting you out, and heading you off towards\nyour old mother.\n\nJACK. A thousand thanks, Tom--a thousand thanks. \"A friend in need is a\nfriend indeed.\" You have lightened my mind of a heavy cargo of care by\nyour kind offer, made with the frankness of a sailor, and which I must\ngratefully accept. And now that I have finished my long and mournful\nyarn, it is your turn; and to tell the truth, Tom, I am exceedingly\nanxious to hear all about you. So heave ahead.\n\nTOM. Well, Jack, here goes. You know when we left the Alert we had\nplenty of rhino in our pockets. So I intended to steer straight for my\nnative village, in the state of Pennsylvania, where I had left my old\nfather and a sweet, dear little sister, three years before, to cheer\ntheir hearts with a sight of their sailor-boy, and to make them\ncomfortable with the cash. Unfortunately, as I passed through\nPhiladelphia, I went with some wild fellows to the theatre--to so many\nthe gateway to hell--and having grog enough aboard to make me pretty\ncrank and foolish, I soon found myself in the third tier among the\npainted fire-ships; and as the proverb says, \"When the wine is in, the\nwit is out,\" so I was led as the simple one of Scripture, \"like an ox to\nthe slaughter.\" Truly, Jack, \"her house is the way to hell, going down\nto the chambers of death.\" The consequences you may readily imagine. I\nwas made to drink until I was quite insensible; was robbed of all my\nmoney, and then turned out of doors into the cold street. When I came to\nmyself it was nearly sunrise, and I could not imagine how I had got\nthere. My head swam, my bones ached, and I felt as if it was \"blue\nMonday\" with me. I staggered off not knowing where I was or whither I\nwent, for half an hour or more, when I sat down on a flight of steps,\nand fell asleep. When I awoke, all the horrors of my situation rushed\nupon my mind; and O, Jack, I felt the raging hell in my bosom that you\ndid when Hardheart first shipped you off. How sunk and degraded in my\nown eyes. I determined, however, upon going home, as the distance was\nshort--only fifteen miles--and a bitter journey it was, Jack. I thought\non my madness and folly, and wondered, with the poor ignorant Indian,\nwhy people would put an enemy into their mouths to steal away their\nbrains. Instead of going to meet my dear father and sweet little sister\nwith a joyous face and a pocket full of money, with which to make their\nhearts sing for joy, I was returning, like the prodigal son, from\nfeeding upon husks with swine--poor, and with a heavy heart and a\ngnawing conscience. O the hell, Jack, of a bad conscience. It is the\nbeginning of the existence of the worm that never dies, and of the fire\nthat is never quenched. It is a foretaste of that eternal hell prepared\nfor those who persist in violating God's holy laws. Well, I reached home\nat last, and a sad home I found it. The sand of my dear father's glass\nwas almost run out--the poor old man was about slipping his cable. But\nO, Jack, how happy he looked; and so calm and resigned to the will of\nhis heavenly Father, as he said--ready to set sail on the great voyage\nof eternity, or to stay and weather more of the rough gales of adversity\nin this life, just as God pleased. He held out his thin, white hand to\nme, and welcomed his boy, and thanked the Lord that he had given him a\nsight of me before his eyes were scaled in death. My poor sister hung\nweeping on my neck. But, Jack, bad as I then felt, I felt a thousand\ntimes worse when my dear old father beckoned me to him, and laying his\nhand on my head, prayed that God--his God, the Friend who had stood by\nhim in every gale and tempest of life, and proved true to him till the\nlast--would bless his dear boy Thomas, and take him into his especial\nkeeping, and lead him to the blessed Jesus; and finally, when the voyage\nof life was over, that we all three might join the dear mother who had\ngone before us, at the right hand of the throne of God, to bless and\npraise his holy name for ever. He then put Susan's hand into mine, and\nblessed us both again, and said, \"Thomas, I leave this dear, precious\ngirl with you; watch over her, cherish and protect her, and be to her\nboth father and brother. May the great God bless you, my dear children,\nand make you his. I have but little time to say more, for the icy hand\nof death is on me; my Saviour beckons, and I must away. Come, Lord\nJesus.\" With these words the glorified spirit of my beloved father\nwinged its flight to mansions in the skies--to that \"rest prepared for\nthe people of God;\" and I was left with my weeping sister, almost\nstupefied with grief. Three days after, the clods of the valley covered\nthe mortal remains of my honored parent, and then poor Sue and I felt\nthat we were all in all to each other. I told her of all my troubles,\nand that I had robbed her by my vileness; but the dear girl kissed me,\nand said, \"Dear brother, do not mourn on my account; I am young and\nhealthy, and can easily support myself by my needle; but mourn on your\nown account--mourn over your sins, and your ingratitude to the great\nBeing who has upheld you and preserved you in so many dangers, known and\nunknown, on the mighty deep. And promise me, dear brother, that you will\nnever touch another drop of liquor again; it will be the first step\ntowards reformation.\"\n\nJACK. Poor dear girl. Of course, Tom, you promised?\n\nTOM. Aye, aye, Jack, I did promise; and what's more, I kept my promise.\nBut you must know how I was able to do it. Before I left the village a\ngreat Temperance-meeting was held there, and several of the friends of\nthe cause delivered addresses, in which they showed so clearly and\nconclusively the great evils resulting from the use of spirituous\nliquors, that nearly every body in the village signed the pledge of\ntotal abstinence--at least, all of the respectable part of the\ncommunity, and even a good many sots who had been given up as\nincorrigible. O Jack, if you had heard the awful accounts they gave of\nbroken-hearted wives and beggared children; of the widows and orphans\nmade by rum; of the misery and degradation attendant upon it; of the\ncrimes committed under its influence--robbery, murder, suicide--leading\nto the penitentiary, the gallows, and death, it would have made your\nblood freeze in your veins. And these accounts were all true, Jack, for\nmany of the horrible scenes had taken place about the neighborhood.\n\nJACK. I don't doubt it at all, Tom. And moreover, I believe that not one\nhalf of the misery caused by rum--no, not the thousandth part, is ever\nknown by the public. Many an injured wife and suffering and ruined child\nhave concealed the history of their woes from the eye and ear of the\nworld, and buried their sorrows deep in their own bosoms.\n\nTOM. True, Jack, or breathed them only to their God, whose ear is always\nopen to the cry of the afflicted, and whose hand is always ready to aid\nthem. Well, I signed the pledge, which I am sure has a great effect in\nrestraining one when tempted to swerve; for what man of honorable\nfeelings would wilfully violate his word and promise--and a few weeks\nafter, having fixed my sister comfortably with a pious milliner, I went\nto Philadelphia, and there shipped with a temperance captain for a South\nAmerican port. O Jack, what a blessed voyage that was to me. On the\nfirst day out, all hands were called aft to the break of the\nquarterdeck, when the captain, who was a pious man, told us in a few\nwords, that it was his practice to have \"family worship\" every morning\nand evening in the cabin, and he hoped that all his men would cheerfully\nunite with him. The captain was so kind in his manner, and appeared to\nbe so sincere, and as he seemed, moreover, to regard us as human beings\nwith immortal souls, and not as brute beasts, out of whose muscles and\nsinews he cared only to get plenty of work, we all willingly consented.\nSo at sundown all hands were mustered in the cabin, except the man at\nthe helm, as the weather was mild and the ship under easy sail; and the\ncaptain prayed fervently that God would give us a safe and pleasant\npassage, and bring us all to think of our souls. He then read a portion\nof Scripture, which he explained to us, and after singing a couple of\nhymns we were dismissed.\n\nJACK. Ah, Tom, good captains make good crews, all the world over; and\nI'll warrant there was neither knocking down nor mutiny aboard of that\nvessel.\n\nTOM. No, Jack; there was nothing but peace, and quietness, and good\norder; every man knew his place and did his duty; and the captain was\nlike a father to us. He had a spare quadrant, which each of us used in\nturn in taking the daily observation, under his own eye; and he taught\nus how to work our reckoning; so that in the course of the voyage some\nof us got to know a good deal about navigation. And, Jack, I had good\nevidence of the value of religion also, particularly when we encountered\nthe equinoctial gale in the southern tropic, and were near going down.\nThen it was, Jack, when we had lost our foretopmast, and our maintopsail\nand most of our other sails had been blown into ribbons; when the sea\nhad carried away nearly all our bulwarks, and swept the decks clear of\ncaboose, longboat, etc.; and the pumps were constantly going--at one\ntime to the tune of more than a thousand strokes an hour--to keep the\nvessel free; and the axes were at hand, ready to cut away the masts when\nthe worst should come--that our captain was calm and collected. He\nseemed to be as patient and submissive to the will of God, as if he had\nbeen _born_ a Christian; and he gave many a kind word of encouragement\nto his men. What a difference there must have been between him and the\nvulgar, bullying man that Sam Bowsprit once sailed with, who was a wolf\nwhen there was no danger, and a sheep when there was; but it is always\nso with your bullies, whether in the cabin or the forecastle. To return\nto my story: in two or three days the gale spent its fury, and we\nreached our port in safety. One day while in port, in rummaging my\nchest, I discovered at the bottom a little package neatly tied up,\nwhich, upon opening, I found to contain two small books, called, \"James'\nAnxious Inquirer after Salvation,\" and \"Baxter's Call to the\nUnconverted;\" with a few touching lines from my dear sister, earnestly\nbeseeching me to look to my soul, and to read my Bible and these little\nbooks, and never to forget my God. Jack, this went to my heart like an\narrow. It brought fresh to my mind the death-bed scene of my dear\nfather, and I fell upon my knees, and, for the first time, _really_\nprayed to God. Yes, Jack, I then prayed indeed. I felt my ingratitude to\nGod to some extent, and I began to see what a sinner I had been. I at\nonce commenced reading my Bible and the little books, that I might learn\nmore of my lost condition, and how to flee from the wrath to come. In\nthe course of a day or two the captain observed that I was uneasy in my\nmind, and called me to him to ask if he could do any thing to aid me. I\nfrankly told him all my trouble, and he at once pointed me to \"the Lamb\nof God, who takes away the sin of the world.\" He then gradually and\nclearly unfolded to me the great gospel plan of redemption; and kneeling\ndown together, he prayed most fervently for me. After a few days of deep\nsolicitude and constant prayer to Almighty God, he, in his infinite\nmercy, shed light upon my soul, and I felt that Christ had died for\nme--_even me_. O Jack, then it was that I first tasted true joy--that\njoy which the world cannot give, and which the world cannot take away;\nthat peace of mind which passeth understanding. And with God's aid, I\nhave ever since tried to walk close in the way prescribed by him; and I\ntrust that my dear father's dying prayer will indeed be answered, and\nthat we shall all meet in heaven.\n\nJACK. Well, Tom, I congratulate you, for although I make no pretensions\nto religion myself, I sincerely respect it in others--that is, where it\nis genuine, as I am sure it is in your case; but I can't stand playing\nsoldier in religion, Tom, as I have seen it done by some hypocrites.\n\nTOM. So much the worse for them, Jack. But, my dear fellow, I advise\nyou, as a friend, not to put off seeking religion another day. _This\nday_ may be your last, Jack. Don't you remember the story of the rich\nman in Scripture, who said, \"Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many\nyears; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry?\" But God said unto\nhim, \"Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee.\" O Jack,\ndon't put off this most important of all works to a dying bed, for you\nmay not have one; you may be called into eternity at a moment's warning.\nYou surely have not forgotten the awful death of swearing Joe Swifter,\nwho was shaken off the yard into the boiling sea in that terrible night\noff the Canaries, when we were all aloft close reefing the Alert's\nmaintopsail? And, Jack, can you ever forget his cry of agony as we shot\nahead in the gale, forced to leave him to perish? I am sure it will\nhaunt _me_ to my dying hour. Poor Joe, thou wert called with all thy\nsins upon thy head into the presence of an offended God.\n\nJACK. Poor Joe. I remember it as if it had occurred but yesterday, Tom.\nIt was an awful warning; and I don't think there were three oaths sworn\non board the Alert for three days after. To tell the truth, Tom, I have\nhad some queer feelings about death and the judgment, lately; and\nalthough I tried hard to drown them in grog, they would come up in spite\nof me. But I'll tell you more about it when we reach your lodgings,\nwhere we will be quiet and uninterrupted. You got safely back, I hope?\n\nTOM. Yes, Jack, thanks to a kind Providence. I made two more voyages\nwith the same captain; and I expect to go with him next trip as mate. I\nhave been able to send my sister a snug little sum to keep her\ncomfortable; and I have something handsome in the seamen's savings bank,\nas I told you before; together with a clear head and a happy heart;\ntrusting in my God, and loving all who bear his image. Now, Jack, what\ndo you think of temperance?\n\nJACK. Think of it? Why, Tom, I always _thought_ well of it, though I\ncan't say that I have latterly _practised_ it much; but I like it now\nbetter than ever. I have ruminated a good deal upon its evils, both at\nsea and ashore. Don't you think, Tom, that rum is at the bottom of nine\nout of ten of the floggings that take place in the navy?\n\nTOM. Yes, indeed, Jack, I am sure of it. And I think, moreover, that if\nit were discarded _entirely_ from the government and merchant service,\ninsubordination and floggings would be of rare occurrence in the one,\nand trouble and mutiny in the other. And there would be fewer vessels\nand lives lost in the merchant-service, in the bargain.\n\nJACK. I have often thought, Tom, what a degrading thing that flogging\nis. It sinks a man below the level of a brute, both in his own and the\neyes of others. It seems to me that if I had ever been triced up at the\ngratings, and had a stroke of the cat, it would have completely crushed\nmy spirit, if it had not broken my heart outright.\n\nTOM. I think it would have had the same effect on me too, Jack. I am\nsure I could not have stood it.\n\nJACK. And, Tom, to show more of the bad effects of liquor, I remember\nthat I was once in Port-au-Prince, in the island of St. Domingo, during\nthe sickly season, when a fearful mortality raged among the shipping, so\nthat every vessel lost some of her men; most of them bringing on the\nyellow-fever by their intemperance. There were three ships that were\nleft without a man; all were swept off from the captain to the cook.\n\nTOM. Awful, Jack, awful. I have also seen many a stout and noble-hearted\ntar, in those yellow-fever countries, stowed away under a foot of earth\nfor the landcrabs to feed upon, just from drinking rum, or the strong\nbrandy of the country. I'll tell you what it is, Jack, when the coppers\nare scalded by rum, physic can't get a hold--it is just like casting\nanchor on a rocky bottom--and so the grip of the grim monster Death is\nsure. The only safe man there, as well as everywhere else, indeed, is\nthe teetotaler.\n\nJACK. What is a teetotaler, Tom? I have often heard the term, without\nfully knowing what it meant.\n\nTOM. A teetotaler, Jack, is one who conscientiously abstains from every\ndescription of intoxicating drink: rum, whiskey, brandy, gin, cordials,\nwine, cider, ale, and even beer.\n\nJACK. What, Tom, you don't mean to say that you give such a wide berth\nto _beer_? Tell that to the marines, for old sailors won't believe it.\n\nTOM. I do say it, Jack. I give even beer a wide berth. Don't you know\nthat it contains alcohol? And what is perhaps worse, there is but little\nbeer and ale made for sale that does not contain many hurtful\ningredients--poisonous drugs. No, no; nothing for me that can in the\nslightest degree affect my noble reason, that great gift of Almighty\nGod. Pure cold water--Adam's sparkling, life-invigorating ale--and\ncoffee and tea, are my beverages. Try them once, Jack, and the word of\nan honest sailor for it, you will never go back to alcohol, or any of\nits accursed family.\n\nJACK. Well, Tom, I think I will. The fact is, you seem to be so well in\nbody and happy in mind, so comfortable and respectable in worldly\nmatters, and speak so cheeringly of another world--to which I know that\nthe rapid current of time is hurrying us both--that I'll follow in your\nwake, and try to make a little headway in these things myself.\n\nTOM. Well said, my hearty. Give me another shake of your honest fist.\nNow I begin to recognize my old true-hearted friend and messmate Jack\nHalyard in his early days, when we swore friendship to each other across\nthe sea-chest, on board the Alert. You are the man for me, Jack; so come\nup with me at once to the Sailor's Home, and I'll rig you out a little\nmore decently--make you look a little more shipshape--and to-night we\nwill go to the great temperance-meeting at the seamen's bethel chapel,\nand you shall sign the pledge, which will be the wisest act of your\nlife, Jack, as I'll wager a barrel of pork against a mouldy biscuit:\naye, I'll warrant me you will say so at some future day. There will be\nplenty of blue-jackets there that will lend a hand in so good a cause.\n\nJACK. Well, heave ahead, old messmate. I did think of _tapering\noff_--quitting by degrees--but perhaps the safest and easiest plan will\nbe, _to break off at once_.\n\nTOM. That is the way, Jack, the only true way. Tapering off is not what\nit is cracked up to be. It is very hazardous; for it keeps up\nexcitement, and the taste of the liquor hangs about the palate. Don't\nyou remember Ben Hawser, one of the best maintopmen of the Alert--he who\nsaved the first Luff from drowning at Port Mahon, when he fell overboard\nfrom the cutter?\n\nJACK. Surely I do, Tom. Do you suppose I could forget such a\nnoble-hearted fellow as Ben Hawser--as fine a fellow as ever laid out\nupon a yard, or stood at the wheel; and such a firstrate marlinespike\nseaman in the bargain? No, indeed.\n\nTOM. You are right, Jack. He was a noble fellow, and a thorough seaman.\nThere was nothing of the lubber about poor Ben: always the first man at\nhis duty, and ready to share his last copper with a fellow-mortal in\ndistress, whether seaman or landsman. Well, Ben once got into a great\nfrolic ashore, and kicked up such a bobbery that the watchman clapped\nhim in limbo for the night; and the justice next morning gave him such a\nclapper-clawing with his tongue, and bore down upon him so hard with his\n_reprimands_, as I think the lawyers call it, and raked him so severely\nfore and aft with his good advice, to wind up with, that Ben felt pretty\nsheepish; and, as he told us afterwards, didn't know whether he was on\nhis head or his heels--on the truck, or on the keelson. He felt so sore\nabout it, and so much ashamed of himself, that he did not touch a drop\nfor six weeks. He then thought he would take it _moderately_ just enough\nto keep the steam up--or, as some folks say, he thought he would be a\n_temperate drinker_. O, Jack, that _temperate drinking_ is a famous net\nof old Satan's to catch fools in. Your temperate drinker treads on\nslippery ground; for as I verily believe that alcohol is one of the most\nactive imps for the destruction of both body and soul, the temperate\ndrinker is too often gradually led on by the fiend, until the habit\nbecomes fixed and inveterate; and he drags a galling chain, each day\nriveted more strongly, and the poor wretch hourly becomes more callous\nto shame, until he sinks into the grave--_the drunkard's grave_.\n\nJACK. But, Tom, you don't mean to say that poor Ben's reel has been run\noff in that style, do you?\n\nTOM. Indeed, Jack, it is true, and sorry am I that it is so. Yes, I\nfollowed the worn-out hulk of Ben Hawser to the dark and silent grave a\nfortnight ago. He slipped his cable in the prime of life; and all along\nof _temperate drinking_ at first. Ben, like many other men, thought he\nwas strong-minded, and could stop at a certain point; but he found, to\nhis cost, that king Alcohol was stronger, and that when once he had\nforged his chains around his victim, he was sure of him, unless the\ngrace of a merciful God intervened, and plucked him as a brand from the\nburning. So I advise every one to beware of _temperate drinking_. Give\nit a wide berth, or it may wreck you for time and for eternity.\n\nOne thing more, Jack. I would like your temperate drinker to pause, and\nreflect upon the fact, that the quantity of brandy or rum that he took\nat a drink, when he commenced this downhill course, has been gradually\nincreased; so that in the second year, what had been quite sufficient\nto please his palate and produce all the desired effects in the first,\nwas then insipidly small; and more so in the third year, if, mayhap, he\ncould with any decency lay claim to the title of _temperate drinker_ so\nlong. Jack, this is a fearful reflection for one of this class of the\nslaves of alcohol; but let him think upon it when quite free from\nexcitement, say after two or three days' abstinence--if he can abstain\nthat long just to cool off for reflection--and I'll warrant he will\ntremble at the prospect.\n\nBesides, Jack, the _influence_ of your temperate drinker is ten times\nworse than that of the confirmed and notorious drunkard; for it is not\nlikely that any one in his senses would desire to copy the confirmed sot\nin his beastliness. No, indeed; he would shrink with horror from the\nintoxicating bowl, if he felt sure that such would be the result to him,\nif he indulged. But he should remember, that no one ever became a sot\n_at once_; the degradation was by degrees. And it may be that your\ntemperate drinker is a respectable and thriving man in the eyes of the\nworld--say a great merchant, or lawyer, or master of a ship--and small\nfolks do not imagine they are in any danger when they see such men stand\nfast, as they think: but they had all better remember the advice in\nScripture, \"Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall;\"\nand so they follow in the wake, and perhaps nine out of ten go down to\nthe grave _drunkards_; often, I am sure, in company with the very men\nwhose example they thought so safe, but which led them to certain ruin.\nIt is an awful thought, Jack, that we have been the means of misleading\nothers, either by example or precept; and one that will weigh like lead\nupon the conscience of many a man on his death-bed. No, no; my motto\nis, \"TOUCH NOT, TASTE NOT, HANDLE NOT.\" The wise man of Scripture knew\nwhat he was about when he said, \"Look not upon the wine when it is red,\nwhen it giveth his color in the cup; at the last it biteth like a\nserpent, and stingeth like an adder.\" The same wise man said also, that\n\"the drunkard and the glutton shall come to poverty.\" But, Jack, what\nare poverty and shame, bad as they are, in comparison with the loss of\nthe soul? Think of that--_the loss of the immortal soul_--for God says,\nthat neither thieves, nor drunkards, nor any thing that defileth, shall\nenter heaven. And O, Jack, to think of being cast into hell for ever,\nwith the devil and his angels; how awful! _but such must be the fate of\nthe unrepentant drunkard_.\n\nJACK. Awful, indeed, Tom. I am now fully persuaded that you are right;\nand so I'll follow your good example, and sign the teetotal pledge. And\nwhat is more, I'll try to be a Christian too, for I believe that\nreligion is the best security against every kind of temptation.\n\nTOM. I like that, Jack; it is truth itself. So we will shape our course\nfor the Sailor's Home, under the direction of that noble institution,\n\"The American Seamen's Friend Society;\" there you will be out of the way\nof temptation, and there is a good deal in that--and to-night we will go\nto the Bethel. By the way, Jack, you can't think what excellent places\nthese Homes are for the poor tempest-tossed mariner; and how snug and\ncomfortable we all are there. The rules of the houses are excellent;\nneither swearing nor drinking is allowed; and every night and morning we\nunite with the families in worship; and on the Sabbath, and some of the\nevenings of the week, we are kindly invited to the Bethel chapel, where\nwe have excellent preaching on the word of God; and in the family\nprayers, the good of us poor sailors, for time and eternity, is not\nforgotten, I can tell you. It reminds me of the days of my boyhood, when\nmy dear father called us together, morning and evening, to praise God;\nand also of the happy time I have spent with my present good captain.\n\nAnd then, Jack, when any of us are sick they are so kind and attentive\njust like our own dear mothers and sisters. I saw how kindly poor Martin\nGray was treated during his long illness, by the manager--a worthy old\nsalt--and his excellent family; and how they smoothed his dying pillow,\nand did all they could to make his way easy towards the dark valley of\nthe shadow of death. Oh, Jack, it is a great thing to fall in with real\nChristians at such a time. It makes one think of the poor man in\nScripture who fell among thieves, and had his wounds dressed and care\ntaken of him by the good Samaritan. Aye, aye, Jack; and I know,\nmoreover, that the good example and excellent advice in these houses\nhave been the means, in the Lord's hands, of saving both the body and\nsoul of many a poor neglected, weather-beaten tar, who would otherwise\nhave fallen into the jaws of the devouring sharks who are always on the\nwatch, with open mouths, to prey upon the poor son of ocean, and to\nswallow him up without pity or remorse.\n\nJACK. Well, heave ahead, my hearty; I'm the lad that won't flinch. So,\nthree cheers for the glorious Temperance cause, for Sailor's Homes and\nBethels, and for the mothers, wives, sisters, and sweethearts of all\ntrue-hearted seamen. And let every jolly tar who loves his family and\ndomestic peace, and wants to do his duty and be respected in this world,\nand lay an anchor to windward of another and better world, toe the\nplank, and sign the pledge right off the reel. Huzza, huzza, huzza.\n\n\n\n\nTHE OX SERMON.\n\n\nAmong the laws given by the divine Lawgiver through Moses to the Jews,\nwas the following: \"If an ox gore a man or a woman that they die, then\nthe ox shall be surely stoned; but the owner of the ox shall be quit.\nBut if the ox _were wont to push_ with his horn in time past, and it\nhath been testified to his owner, and he hath not kept him in, but he\nhath killed a man or a woman, the ox shall be stoned, and his owner also\nshall be put to death.\" Exod. 21: 28, 29.\n\nThe principle of this law is a very plain one, and a very broad\none--here applied in a specific case, but extending to ten thousand\nothers. It is this. Every man is responsible to God for the evils which\nresult from his selfishness, or his indifference to the welfare of\nothers.\n\nAges before this law was given, God says to Noah, \"Your blood of your\nlives will I require: at the hand of every beast will I require it, and\nat the hand of man.\" A stigma shall be fixed upon man or beast that\nshall destroy him who is made after the similitude of God. But why, in\nthe case first supposed, is the owner quit, or guiltless? Simply because\nthe death is not in any way the result of his carelessness or of his\nselfishness. From any thing within his knowledge, he had no reason to\nexpect such a result. But if the ox hath been _wont to push_ with his\nhorns, and he knew it, he shall be responsible for the consequences,\nwhatever they may be; for he had every reason to expect that mischief\nwould be done, and took no measures to prevent it. And if the ox kill a\nman or woman, the owner hath done the murder, and he shall be put to\ndeath. Why? The death was the result of his selfishness, or his\nindifference to the lives of others. And according to the law of God,\nhis life shall go for it. The principle of this law is a principle of\ncommon-sense.\n\nYou see a fellow-creature struggling in the water. You know that he can\nnever deliver himself. And you know that a very little assistance, such\nas you can render, will rescue him from a watery grave. You look on and\npass by. True, you did not thrust him in. But he dies by your neglect.\nHis blood will be upon your head. At the bar of God, and at the bar of\nconscience, you are his murderer. Why? You did not kill him. Neither did\nthe owner of the ox lift a hand. _But he shall surely be put to death._\nYou had no malice, neither had he. You did not intend his death--at the\nvery worst, you did not care. This is just his crime. He did not care.\nHe turned loose a wild, fiery, ungovernable animal, knowing him to be\nsuch; and what mischief that animal might do, or what suffering he might\ncause, _he did not care_. But God held him responsible.\n\nEvery man is responsible for evils which result from his own selfishness\nor indifference to the lives of men. In other words, to make a man\nresponsible for results, it is not necessary to prove that he has\nmalice, or that he intended the results. The highwayman has no malice\nagainst him he robs and murders, nor does he desire his death, but his\nmoney; and if he can get the money, he does not care. And he robs and\nmurders because he loves himself and does not care for others; acting in\na different way, but on the same selfish principle with the owner of the\nox; and on the very same principle is he held responsible.\n\nIn the trial of the owner of the ox, the only questions to be asked were\nthese two: Was the ox _wont to push_ with his horn in time past? Did the\nowner _know it_ when he let him loose? If both these questions were\nanswered in the affirmative, the owner was responsible for all the\nconsequences. This is a rule which God himself has established.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIs INTOXICATING LIQUOR wont to produce misery, and wretchedness, and\ndeath? Has this been testified to those who make and deal in it as a\nbeverage? If these two things can be established, the inference is\ninevitable--they are responsible on a principle perfectly intelligible,\na principle recognized and proclaimed, and acted upon by God himself.\n\nTurn then your attention to these two facts. 1. Intoxicating liquor _is\nwont to produce misery_. 2. Those who make or traffic in it, _know_\nthis.\n\n1. Upon the first point it will be sufficient to remind you of the hopes\nwhich intoxicating liquor has blasted, and the tears it has caused to\nflow. Let any one of us count up the number of its victims which we have\nknown--consider their character and standing in society--their once\nhappy families and prospects, and what a fearful change has a few years'\nuse of strong drink produced. Very few but remember twenty, thirty,\nfifty, or one hundred families ruined in this way. Some of them were\nonce our intimate friends--and their story is soon told.\n\nThey drank occasionally, for the sake of company, or merely for\nexhilaration. The relish for stimulants was thus acquired, and habits of\ndissipation formed. They became idle, and of course uneasy. And they\ncontinued to drink, partly to gratify taste and partly to quiet\nconscience. They saw the ruin that was coming upon them, and they made\nsome earnest but ineffectual struggles against it. But the resistance\nbecame weaker and weaker--by and by the struggle is ended--they float\nwith the current, and where are they? One has been found by the\ntemperance reformation, a mere wreck in property, character, body, and\nmind, and reclaimed. Another is dead: his constitution could not bear\nhis continued dissipation. Another died in a fit; another was found by\nthe road-side one cold morning, a stiffened corpse. Another was thrown\nfrom his horse, and is a cripple for life, but still can contrive means\nto pay a daily visit to the dram-shop. Another is a mere vagabond,\nunprincipled and shameless--wandering from shop to shop, a fit companion\nfor the lowest company, a nuisance to society and a curse to his\nkindred. Another is in the penitentiary for a crime which he committed\nin a drunken frolic.\n\nGo into the crowded court-house and you may see another; his countenance\nhaggard and ghastly, and his eye wildly rolling in despair. What has he\ndone? One night, after spending all his money for drink, and loitering\nabout till all the shops were closed, he returned to his miserable\nhabitation. He found a few coals on the hearth, and his wife and\nchildren sitting by them. He threw one child this way and another that,\nfor he was cold. His wife remonstrated, and withal told him that what\nlittle fire there was was none of his providing. With many a horrid oath\nhe declared he would not be scolded after that sort. He would let her\nknow who should govern, and by way of supporting his authority, beat her\nbrains out with the last remaining stick of wood. He did not mean to\nkill her. Her dying struggles brought him to his senses, and he stood\nhorror-struck. He would give almost any thing that the deed were not\ndone. If that could restore her to life, he would be almost ready to\ngive a pledge never to taste intoxicating liquor again. Now look at the\nwretchedness of his family. For years he has made very little provision\nfor them; they have lived as they could, half naked and half starved,\nand not educated at all--with a most wretched example before their eyes.\nWhat encouragement had the wife or the children to attempt any thing--to\nmake any exertion? The children are abused and trampled on at home, and\nthey grow up without self-respect, without shame, and without principle.\nCan any thing good be expected of them? And if they do rise, it must be\nthrough a world of difficulty.\n\nHow many thousand families have been ruined in some such way as this.\nThe father was a drunkard, and the mother--what could she do? She\nendured, hoping against hope--and for the children's sake bore up\nagainst the current; and many a time disguised a sad despairing heart\nunder a joyful countenance, till at length she died of a broken heart,\nor died by the hands of him who had sworn to protect her.\n\nThese, and things like these, are the effects of intoxicating\nliquor--not casual, accidental, but common, natural edicts, seen\neverywhere, in every town, in every neighborhood, and in every\nconnection. Look which way we will, we see some of these effects. The\ngreatest wretchedness which human nature in this world is called to\nendure, is connected with the use of inebriating drink. There is\nnothing else that degrades and debases man like it--nothing so mean\nthat a drunkard will not stoop to it--nothing too base for him to do to\nobtain his favorite drink. Nothing else so sinks the whole man--so\ncompletely destroys not only all moral principle, but all self-respect,\nall regard to character, all shame, all human feeling. The drunkard can\nbreak out from every kind of endearing connection, and break over every\nkind of restraint; so completely extinct is human feeling, that he can\nbe drunk at the funeral of his dearest relative, and call for drink in\nthe last accents of expiring nature.\n\nNow look at a human being, whom God has made for noble purposes, and\nendowed with noble faculties, degraded, disgraced, polluted, unfit for\nheaven, and a nuisance on earth. He is the centre of a circle--count up\nhis influence in his family and his neighborhood--the wretchedness he\nendures, and the wretchedness he causes--count up the tears of a\nwretched wife who curses the day of her espousals, and of wretched\nchildren who curse the day of their birth. To all this positive evil\nwhich intoxicating liquor has caused, add the happiness which but for it\nthis family might have enjoyed and communicated. Go through a\nneighborhood or a town in this way, count up all the misery which\nfollows in the train of intoxicating liquor, and you will be ready to\nask, Can the regions of eternal death send forth any thing more deadly?\nWherever it goes, the same cry may be heard--lamentation, and mourning,\nand woe; and whatever things are pure, or lovely, or venerable, or of\ngood report, fall before it. These are its effects. Can any man deny\nthat \"the ox is wont to push with his horn?\"\n\n2. _Has this been testified to the owner?_ Are the makers and venders\naware of its effects? The effects are manifest, and they have eyes,\nears, and understandings, as well as others. They know that whatever\nprofit they make is at the expense of human life or comfort; and that\nthe tide which is swelled by their unhallowed merchandise sweeps ten\nthousand yearly to temporal and eternal ruin. But this is not all. The\nattention of the public has been strongly turned to this subject. The\nminds of men have been enlightened, and their responsibility pressed\nhome upon them. The subject has been presented to them in a new light,\nand men cannot but see the absurdity of reprobating the tempted, while\nthe tempter is honored--of blaming drunkards, and holding in reputation\nthose whose business it is to make drunkards.\n\nBut are the makers of intoxicating liquor aware of its effects? Look at\nthe neighborhood of a distillery--an influence goes forth from that spot\nwhich reaches miles around--a kind of constraining influence, that\nbrings in the poor, and wretched, and thirsty, and vicious. Those who\nhave money bring it--those who have none, bring corn--those who have\nneither, bring household furniture--those who have nothing, bring\nthemselves and pay in labor. Now the maker knows all these men, and\nknows their temperament, and probably knows their families. He can\ncalculate effects, and he sends them off, one to die by the way, another\nto abuse his family, and another just ready for any deed of wickedness.\nWill he say that he is not responsible, and like Cain ask, \"Am I my\nbrother's keeper?\" He knew what might be the result, and for a mere\npittance of gain was willing to risk it. Whether this man should abuse\nhis family, or that man die by the way, so his purpose was answered, he\ndid not care. The ox was wont to push with his horn, and he knew it; and\nfor a little paltry gain he let him loose, and God will support his law\nby holding him responsible for the consequences.\n\nBut a common excuse is, that \"very little of our manufacture is used in\nthe neighborhood; we send it off.\" And are its effects any less deadly?\nIn this way you avoid _seeing_ the effects, and poison strangers instead\nof neighbors. What would you say to a man who traded in clothes infected\nwith the smallpox, and who would say by way of apology, that he sent\nthem off--he did not sell any in the neighborhood? Good man! he is\nwilling to send disease and death all abroad; but he is too kind-hearted\nto expose his neighbors. Would you not say to him, you may send them\noff, but you cannot send off the responsibility? The eye of God goes\nwith them, and all the misery which they cause will be charged to you.\nSo we say to the man who sends off his intoxicating liquor.\n\n\"But if I do not make it and traffic in it, somebody else will.\" What\nsin or crime cannot be excused in this way? I know of a plot to rob my\nneighbor; if I do not plunder him, somebody else will. Is it a privilege\nto bear the responsibility of sending abroad pestilence and misery and\ndeath? \"Our cause is going down,\" thought Judas, \"and a price is set\nupon the head of our Master, and if I do not betray him somebody else\nwill. And why may not I as well pocket the money as another?\" If you\nconsider it a privilege to pocket the wages of unrighteousness, do so.\nBut do not pretend to be the friend of God or man while you count it a\nprivilege to insult the one and ruin the other?\n\nSays another, \"I wish it were banished from the earth. But then what can\nI do?\" What can you do? You can keep one man clear; you can wash your\nown hands of this wretched business. And if you are not willing to do\nthat, very little reliance can be placed on your good wishes. He that is\nunjust in the least, is unjust also in much. I can hardly conceive any\nthing more inconsistent with every generous feeling, every noble\nprinciple, than the traffic in intoxicating liquor at the present day.\nThe days of ignorance on this subject have passed by; every man acts\nwith his eyes open.\n\nLook at the shop and company of the retailer. There he stands in the\nmidst of dissipation, surrounded by the most degraded and filthy of\nhuman beings, in the last stages of earthly wretchedness. His business\nis to kindle strife, to encourage profanity, to excite every evil\npassion, to destroy all salutary fears, to remove every restraint, and\nto produce a recklessness that regards neither God nor man. And how\noften in the providence of God is he given over to drink his own poison,\nand to become the most wretched of this wretched company. Who can behold\nan instance of this kind without feeling that God is just. \"He sunk down\ninto the pit which he made; in the net which he hid is his own foot\ntaken.\"\n\nAnother will say, \"I neither make nor traffic in it.\" But you drink it\noccasionally, and your example goes to support the use of it. You see\nits tremendous effects, and yet you receive it into your house and bid\nit God speed. As far as your influence supports it and gives it\ncurrency, so far are you a partaker of its evil deeds. If you lend your\ninfluence to make the path of ruin respectable, or will not help to\naffix disgrace to that path, God will not hold you guiltless. You cannot\ninnocently stand aside and do nothing.\n\nA deadly poison is circulating over the land, carrying disease and\ndesolation and death in its course. The alarm has been given. Its deadly\neffects have been described, seen, and felt. Its victims are of every\nclass; and however wide the difference in fortune, education, intellect,\nit brings them to the same dead level. An effort has been made to stay\nthe plague, and a success surpassing all expectation has crowned the\neffort. Still, the plague rages to an immense extent. What will every\ngood citizen do? Will he not clear his house, his shop, his premises of\nit? Will he not take every precaution to defend himself against it, and\nuse his influence and his exertions to diminish its circulation and thus\ndiminish human misery? If he fears God or regards man, can he stop short\nof this? Can he, in his recklessness and selfishness say, \"Let others\ntake care of themselves? I'll make no promises--I'll not be bound--I am\nin no danger?\" If he can speak and act thus, and stands aloof, and\ncontinues to drink, is he not guilty, and with the distiller and vender\naccountable to God for the perpetuation of these mighty evils, which but\nfor his cooperation and agency must soon cease to exist? \"I speak as\nunto wise men; judge ye what I say.\"\n\n\nPUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe American Tract Society,\n\n=ISSUE=\n\n\nTHE RELIGIOUS (OR PASTOR'S) LIBRARY,\n\nOf 25 standard evangelical volumes 12mo, at $10.\n\n\nTHE EVANGELICAL FAMILY LIBRARY,\n\nOf 15 volumes, with steel portraits, frontispieces,\nand other engravings, at $5 50.\n\nALSO\n\nTwenty-one volumes to match the Family Library, at $7 50.\n\n\nTHE YOUTH'S LIBRARY,\n\nOf 70 volumes, 18mo, comprising Hannah More's CHEAP\nREPOSITORY, in 8 volumes, and 255 highly finished engravings.\n\n\nTHE FAMILY TESTAMENT AND PSALMS,\nWith brief Notes and Instructions, and Maps.\n\n\nA CONCORDANCE TO THE HOLY SCRIPTURES; CRUDEN CONDENSED.\n\n\nFLAVEL'S REDEMPTION,\nComprising the Fountain of Life, Method of Grace,\nand Christ Knocking at the Door.\n\n\nD'AUBIGNE'S HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION, 5 vols.\nA new translation revised by the author.\n\n\nSTANDARD PRACTICAL WORKS\n\nOf Baxter, Flavel, Bunyan, Alleine, Venn, Edwards, Backus,\nRomaine, William Jay, John Angell James, and numerous\nworks of kindred characters.\n\n\nBUNYAN'S PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.\n\n\nATONEMENT AND JUSTIFICATION.\nBy Rev. Andrew Fuller.\n\n\nMEMOIR OF REV. JUSTIN EDWARDS, D. D.\n\n\nLIFE OF REV. JEREMIAH AND MOSES HALLOCK,\nLaborers in the work of God about the year 1800.\n\n\nCHALMERS' ASTRONOMICAL DISCOURSES.\n\n\nBACKUS' SCRIPTURE DOCTRINE OF REGENERATION.\n\n\nROMAINE'S LIFE OF FAITH.\n\n\nJAY'S MORNING EXERCISES.\n\n\nJAMES' ANXIOUS INQUIRER,\n\n  And\n\nCHRISTIAN PROGRESS.\n\n\nLADY HUNTINGTON AND HER FRIENDS,\nWith steel Portraits. By Mrs. H. C. Knight.\n\n\nDR. 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No works in\nthe English language are better adapted for circulation in families, or\nfor district or Sunday-school libraries, while the very low prices at\nwhich they are sold, place them within the means of all classes of the\ncommunity.\n\n\nTO BE HAD AT\n\n150 Nassau-street, New York; 28 Cornhill, Boston;\nand in other cities and towns.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:\n\nEvery effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully\nas possible, including obsolete and variant spellings. Obvious\ntypographical errors in punctuation (misplaced quotes and the like) have\nbeen fixed. The letter after the page number indicates the Tract (see\nthe Table of Contents). Corrections [in brackets] in the text are noted\nbelow:\n\npage 3, A: typo corrected\n\n   and I have heard of its speading[spreading] through a whole\n   family composed of members\n\npage 8, A: typo corrected\n\n   The strength they produce in labor is of a transient nature, and\n   is always followed by a sense of weakness nd[and] fatigue.\n\npage 3, D: removed extraneous quote\n\n   his influence to continue a practice, or he should at least be\n   conniving at a practice, which was [\"]destroying more lives,\n   making more mothers widows, and children\n\npage 8, D: typo fixed\n\n   attend public worship. In a word, their whole deportment, both at\n   home and abread,[abroad] is improved, and to a greater extent\n   than any, without witnessing it, can well imagine.\n\npage 4, P: typo fixed\n\n   It is believed that no vice has ever been so faithfully\n   guaged[gauged], and the details so well ascertained, as the vice","title":"Select Temperance Tracts","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":124117}