■,'iu V%* '■ "°- IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 11.25 2.0 I, 1^ 111= \A. Ill 1.6 v] V] ^c5 ^h '•> / M '^ o 7 m M :v V \ \ ^N^ «^' CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical Notes / Notes techniques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Physical features of this copy which may alter any of the images in the reproduction are checked below. D D D D Coloured covers/ Couvertures de couleur Coloured maps/ Cartes gdographiques en couleur Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ Pages d§color6es, tachetdes ou piqudes Tight binding (may cause shadows or distortion along interior margin)/ Reliure serr6 (peut causer de I'ombre ou de la distortion le long de la marge int^rieure) L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. 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Bibliographic Notes / Notes bibliographiques D D D Only edition available/ Seule Edition disponible Bound with other material/ Reli6 avec d'autres documents Cover title missing/ Le titre de couverture manque n Pagination incorrect/ Erreurs de pagination Pages missing/ Des pages manquent Maps missing/ Des cartes gdographiques manquent D Plates missing/ Des planches manquent D Additional comments/ Commentaires suppl^mentaires The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol •—»> (meaning CONTINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Les images suivantes ont 6x6 reproduites avec le plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et de la nettetd de I'exemplaire film6, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la der- nidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — »- signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". The original copy was borrowed from, and filmed with, the kind consent of the following institution: National Library of Canada L'exemplaire film6 fut reproduit grdce 6 la g6n6rosit6 de I'dtablissement pr§teur suivant : Bibliothdque nationale 6u Canada Maps or plates too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper \(**t hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method' Les cartes ou les planches trop grandes pour dtre reproduites en un seul clich6 sont film^es d partir de Tangle sup6rieure gauche, de gauche d droite et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Le diagramme suivant illustre la mdthode : 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ■J.- -■ XI '-k- 1 M I ; . n 1 , 1 I ; I ., . I ■■ ■ I !■■ I ! A' "•^^1:^ ■■« 3 ,■4." ' '•■ 4 4 4 t ■*.l ,y h. Si ^■\„ . ■»■'. ,■ i': ■ '■■-•!*.' ' > %: '" ■'*!>* "^ '' / /i;-:^t'^-*. ■■,■ * i '|4r .m.t ■V ■#'*vv .■s;.#'-*:^'»A, ^ t^ ■:.*■ .-,■1 »-"•:• ■■■■ '■('^'■^■'- *.,:j' ti. ■'I ■^ M^> I -.t-.' % tair. ART? '*«>••■ '. OA V. :^i., :%, I , ■ 'I i'l ;. '■ . '!, -1^''''^.".^;' -«** 'rSfWW..,. -' ' l^ ' '!<^/ ^f^' t^ OK JS" . >* OF *^ ^ aOXD^B. OpTTGH:, m (;.' ^>l*'>-' fits' 'J* HARTFoitD, cojrar. ^i£^ •1 -i A r PLATIOIIM ECHOES: l>R, LIVING TRUTHS FOR HEAD AND HEART. iLLi sritAi'Ki) |l^• ANECDOTES, INCIDENTS, PERSONAL EXPERIENCES, FACTS AND STORIES DRAWN FROM THE IICMOR AND PATHOS OF LIFE. By JOHN B. GOUGH. AITTHOK 01.' "SUKUGHT AND SilADOW." WITH A HISTORY OF MR. GOUGII'S LIFE AND WORK, By rev. LYMAN ABBOTT, D.D. AND AN INTRODUCTION By HON. Sn{ S. LEONARD TILLEY, C.B., K.C.M.G., MINISTER OF FINANCE, CANADA. Supftbis CUustratfti to.t(, STtoo Jfm StreU^Jtatr i|ortrai(8 of tt,r auttjot anO $wxf ^imdvcrt una Siucntij*5cu«n Mn^xtivinQs from ©riBiiial Otsigns bo tljf ffloBt Eminfnt artiuta. SOLD ONLY BY SUBSCRIPTION. TORONTO, ONT.: WILLIAM BRIGGS, PUBLISHER, 78 AND 80 KING STKKET EAST. 1885. .Ql^ Enteretl, acconliiij; to tlic Act of the Parliuiiicnt of ("iinadii, in the year one tliousaml I'ijjlit liuiKli't'd and c'ij;lity-tive, liY WILLIAM liltKiCS, 111 tlie ()ili(:e of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. Entered, according to Aot of CongTcss, in tlie year 1885, liY A. I). \\'iii;TiiiN(rri>N and Company, In the Oliice of the Lihrariaii of Coiij^rt'ss, at Washington, D.C. p{ntroiltt(ttioi(. IIY THE HON. SIR S. LEONARD TILLEY, C.T5., K.C.M.G., MlNISTKll OK KlXANCK, CANADA. HE question wliether the platform or the press con- tributes most to the enlightenment and advancement of .society may not be easily decided, but there will be general agreement that both combined have produced mar- vellous eft'ect.s since the introduction of printing. Many of the utterances of great men would have been lost to mankind, and limited in their results, but for the press and the now almost ubiquitous reporter. It is, however, a great cause of regret that the speeches of men have often been misreported, and they have been held responsible for what they did not say and did not mean. Mr. Gough had frequently good reason to complain in this respect ; and, therefore, it must be occasion of satisfac- tion to his ho.sts of friends and admirers that, under the title of •' Platform Echoes," he has been induced to prepare and put to press those facts, and illustrations of facts, which cannot but enlighten the mind and chasten the heart of every candid, thoughtful reader. One thing is most clear in respect of all the public utterances of Mr. Gough, and that is, there are in them a recognition of moral and Christian principles — the necessary basi.s of all moral reformation. And yet it U'ay be affirmed without hesitation, that in no work of modern times can there be found more nicy anecdotes — more stirring, life-like 11 INTUODUCTION. stories of human feeling, whether of gladness or of sadness, or more enchanting narrative of moral death and resurrection, than will be found in these remarkable pajes. The story of Mr. Gough's liistory, from the pen of a learned and eloquent American author, shows beyond doubt that the heroism and marvellous achievements of Mr. Goujjh began with self-conqujest — the greatest of victories, and without which all other attainments are comparatively valueless. In this respect, therefore, I introduce Mr. Gough as worthy of imitation by all Canadian youth. As to the eloquent and diversified echoes of the platform herein reproduced, all classes of society will derive profit from their perusal. To niany of the facts and anecdotes, additional pleasure will be received from the artistic illustrations of the work, prepared by the foremost practical artists of this continent. It must be gratifying to Canadians to know that an enter- prising publisher is found willing to reproduce a work of so great extent, and one which could not thus be published without the expenditure of many thousands of dollars. As a contribu- tion to our literature, and as a valuable aid in the great temper- ance reformation, I cordially introduce Mr. Gough's latest work, "comprising living truths for head and heart," which he designates " this quiver of unpolished arrows ;" but by most men they will be considered the sort of arrows which, with God's blessing, will acconq^lish great good " in right and desir- able directions." S. L. TiLLEY. Ottawa, 1885. N several occasions, to ohlicfo English friends, T authorized the publication and corrected •nS} the proofs of notes taken dur- ing sonic of iny public utter- JT^ anccs. With these exceptions, for more than thirty years my words have been reported, printed, and sold with no regard to my wishes, /ithout proper revision, and often with annoying and absurd mistakes. 1 have come to the conclusion that I have some personal right to their oversight, and also to the time and manner of their appearance. In addition, every year for a long Lime past, requests from various quarters have been made for authorized cojiies of this or that public utterance. One si)ecial inducement to submit them to the publisher has been the reception, to my surprise and pleasure, of many letters from Great Britain, United States, India, and Australia, from a few of which I extract such sentences as these : " I was induced by reading your speech to give up the drink, and begin a sober life, to which I have kept ever since." " I owe my position in life to reading one of your orations." (I should say here that the word oration was VI TKEFACE. . I never given by me to anything I ever said in public.) From another letter I quote these words : " M}^ whole family are abstainers from the fact that one of your printed speeches came into my hands at a critical time iu my life." Respect- ing the notes on other topics than temperance, I have re- ceived such expressions as these: "Since I heard you I have tried to be a better woman." " The effect on me of your lecture was to make ine earnestly desire to he better, to live better." Fully sensible, as I am, of many faults and shortcomings in these records of the platform, I remember gratefully the sympathetic and encouraging Avords of a master of platform power, whose voice is now hushed in death, — AVendell Piiillips, — who gave me many a kind and helpful word. Meeting him on a journey, and speaking of my lack of edn- catlon and how much I felt it, he said in cordial tones, " Why, any scholar w^ho hears 30U perceives at once your lack of educational training, so called," and then added with a smile, " But perhaps the world is all the better for that." Thus eiicouraged, and for reasons before stated, I offer this quiver of unpolished arrows in the hope that they may accomplish more in right and desirable directions than they could in any previous fragmentary appearance ; only adding that though the]-e must of necessity be rcpetitiou in the arguments, there is no repetition in tlu^ facts or incidents. Jtom ©rfflinal Drsigns titaton nprcsslg fot tfjls faorft bn Jf. ®. €. ©arlty, E!Bm. iL. *!)fppatli, anO ST. i!JIl. sailliamB. offer tliey kliiig 1 tlie L'lltS. ^ 4 5 ■s 1 : 7. 8 ->? A ^ -.' 10 f- ■1 11 it" 12 t 13 14 -V ir) ;0 10 -:>. 17 18 '■'i? 10 i PORTRAIT OF JOHN" B. GOUGII. Enqbaved on SxEioL Frontispiece Encravcd expresslv for tliis work from the original life-size paiiitir.sj; by Sir DvMi: I, MacnkkJI.S.A., presented to Mrs. GorOH by the Directors of the Scott i.sh Temperance Lea?uo, May 22, 1855. Engraved in pure line and stipple by Mr. J. J. Cade, New York. ILLUSTRATED TITLE-PAGE (Pull Page.) Designed uv F. O. C. Darley . ... To face frontispiece Showing the beginning, middle, and end of a drunkanl's career, and the peaceful old age of temperate and virtuous lives. 1, The Reginning — a con- vivial partv of young men. 2, The Middle — the horrors nf delirium tremens. 3, The Knil — death in the gutter. 4, The happy old age of well-spent lives. The page presents a powerful contrast between two sides of life, one showing the reward of temperance and virtue, the other the results of intemperance anil sill. PAOR 0u\ a mental heading to preface 5 Ornamental Initial Letter 5 Engraved Autograph of John B. Gotgii 6 Ornamental Heading to List of Illustrations .... 7 Ornamental Heading to Contents 15 South View of Mr. Gouoh's Residence 28 Ornament.vl Heading to Rev. Lyman Abbott's Intro- 29 DUCTION 29 Ornamental Initial Letter, showing the ^.Vorcester Vase made and presented to Mr. Gouoii in England, 29 Engraved Autograph of Rev. Lyman Abbott (19 "Hillside" — Residence of John B. Gouoh , 70 Ornamental Headino 71 Ornamental Initial Letter 71 Victims of Habit 73 A Man we Often Meet . . 75 Style Forty Years Aoo 77 Scene of the Wreck 78 The Boy who Swore dy Old Dan Tucker 81 vU vm LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 20. Memories of the Past 85 21. "Come down wid ye, Tiiady" 88 22. A*'Desavin' C'JtATUK" 89 23. LowEit IlAEL IN Mu. Gouoii's House 92 24. OUNAMENTAI. INITIAL LEiiiiK 9.3 25. On THE BiJiNK 90 26. The Kesult ok Smelling 'hound 98 27. Weusteu Pleading with his Classmate 100 28. '"Get ui'! get up! the Tkain is Coming!" 10] 29. The Cat's Pledge 10;{ 30. "No! You have Deceived me!" J04 31. "Now, Adam" 105 32. Adam's Return 100 33. Adam's Exit from the Closet 107 34. THE DEATH OF TOM. (Full Page.) Designed by F. O. C. Darley To face 110 "Too Into, Jem. Don't leave mo; (Inn't leave mo! Oli, it is geltinp; darlc; it is Retting dark." Stiai)ilileniiig himself uj), while eonviil^ions sliooli Ills fiainc, h<^ salil, " This is the last act of the play that is played out," and lie fell back dead. 35. Ornamental Initial Letter • 113 30. Too Personai 115 37. A Surprise to doth Duellists 110 38. The Man avho Drinks uecause he is Cold 122 39. The Man who Drinks because he is Hot 123 40. "De Dehbil SAYS, 'Take 'em'" 125 41. The "Fearful Example" 120 42. A Dreadful Threat 128 43. Ornamental Initial Letter 131 44. "Sir! Sir! The House is on Fire!" 133 45. A Shilling Short 136 40. A "Fo' Days" Meeting" 138 47. A Puzzled Frenchman 144 48. Betsy Jones 145 49. Ornamental Initial Letter 148 50. The Little Philanthropist 1,50 51. A Hrute in Human Form 151 52. Transfixed with Horror 1,')0 53. Thankful for Small Favors lOl 54. "The Den I was Burrowin' in" 104 .55, Cutting a Dash 105 50. Driven Out into the Storm 106 57. THE MINER AND HIS CONVERTS. A REMARKABLE SCENE. (Full Page.) Designed by F. O. C. Darley. ToJ'kcc "I say, Diek ! Dick is onminc, Diek is eoming ! Tom. Tom, look heie ! Ah, tliat "s riplit, Tom. N'o«, lads, follow a Rood example." And lifly-(ij;ht men came tramp, (lamp, tramp, on tlie platform. ""I'liev sci^rd the jien as It It woro a pen of iron, and wrote as if tiiey were RravInK theii' names into stone. That luiui did luuro work in tun mirutus than I coulil do in ten houis. 109 85 88 89 92 93 m 98 100 101 108 104 105 106 107 113 115 110 122 128 125 120 128 131 133 136 188 144 145 148 150 151 ino 101 104 105 100 100 # 58. f: 59. ^1 60 "f 1 61 62 'Si: 03 ■i^'f^- 04. 05. 66. 07. 68. 69. 70. 71. (2, 78. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 8;]. 84. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. OUNAMENTAL INITIAL LETTER I TAKE IT "AS A MEDICINE " Old Mixem's Cuke All .... "Let IIek Slide" Ornamental Initial Letter . . "Go Back, Back to IIeu, I Say" A FATAL L?]AP. (Full Page.) Designed by F. O. C Dakley '-^ /«ce His face was i)ale as ashes. I le cloiichcil his fingers as if lie would press the nails into tlie Hesli, liis lip curleil over liis while teelli in the iii;oMics of rluiUh, iinil his eves jjliireil iipcm his coiiipanioiis willi the ferocity of a tiucr as he said, "Oil, why dill von not, hold nie'.'" Why did they not hold him? It was too late; the demon of drink had full i)Ossessioii of him, and no mortal power could have held him then. Saving a lIusnAND erom Disgkace Just Saved! "On, My Goodness!" A DiSAGREEAIiLE NEIOIIHOR Ornamental Initial Letter "I Sot, and Sot" Mr. Long's Accuser IX 170 172 177 180 184 186 188 72. Mr. Long The Prison Visitors A Unanimous Vote Love's Test. — The Men aviio Ju.mi'ED The Man who did not Jump . . . . As She Was, and as She Is ... . Ornamental Initial Letter . . . . "The Strands Began to Snap" . . The Phy.sician's Discovery . . . . Ornamental Initial Letter . . . . "AiNT IT Queer?" "I'll not he Outdone hy mv Boy" . A Peep Over the Fence 85. REST AT LAST. (Full Page.) Designed by F. O. C. Dar- LEY To face Hrinsed. haltorod, forhnn. friendless, motherless, hiding from an infuriated father, he hail a little hymn to sinij. . . . The Kenllcman huriied away for re- storatives and help, ranie hack again in less than two hours, and climbed the ladder. There were the chips, IlKM'e were tin' shavings, and there was the little motherless hoy, with one hand by his side ami the other tucked in his bosom — (lenil. 86. Ornamental Initial Letter 87. "Drink's My Curse" 88. "You Know avito T am'" 89. Stimulus 191 197 200 208 2(Ki 210 212 212 217 218 220 220 228 226 228 2:58 239 241 245 248 252 90. Ornamental Initial Letter 91. "What a Fool I am " 92. "Mary, Mary. I've Signed the Pledge' 98. " It C.\ME Neareu AND Nearer" . . . 04. "Washed Ashohe, and Fkiz to Deatu" 256 260 261 267 270 271 275 270 279 X LIST OF ILLUSTRATIOXS. 05. A Rag Show 282 00. A Teachku Taught 283 07. A DRUNKEN FIDDLER AND IIIS AUDIENCE. (Pull Page.) Designed nv T. W. WilliAmh .... To fare 28-1 Opposite a groc-shop, in n certain town, voii niiglit, liave seen a tlrivoHint;, liliotif ()n a box. with a sloiiolieil lint drawn over Ids exes, and a fiddle in Ids lian 122. "BOOTS! BOOTS!" MY FLIGHT FROM LONDON STREET BOYS. (Full Page. ) Designed by W. L. Sheppard. To/((re 3(;2 I went up Drury Lane all ridht, but when I passed into White Knrt Street I henril the cry of " Boots! Boots! " Ami soon from every window, doorway, ■'ey seemed to come the cry of '• Roots! Boots! " Sri I becan to quicken s, and I heard the youngsters quickening theirs after nie. Soon they 1 on every 8i8 A Frightful Vision 400 " He Grips the Glass Again " 402 Ornamental Initial Letter 407 A Hand Stained with Blood 411 A " IIlNDEAVIDUAI, " 413 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 13(5. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 140. THE OLD BREWERY AXD ITS NEIGHBORHOOD AT THE FIVE POINTS, NEW YORK. As it appeared PREVIOUS TO BEING DEMOLISHED BY THE LADIES' IToME Missionary Society of the M. E. Church. (Pull Page.) Accurately restored by T. W. Williams from an old sketch now in possession of The Five Points Mission . . To face 1, Murderer's Alley, a narrow, dark passage, Ms feet long. 2, The prin- cipal grngg.My. ;t, Kiur.iiice to a Tien of Thieves ; a long, narrow passage, 2>i feet wi.le, and "dark as mididght." 4, Door eonneeting with Drunken Alley and the Den of Thieves. 5, Another entrance to the Den of Thieves. 6, Door leading to a gambling area, or yard in the rear. 147. Ornamental Ixitial Letter 143. "The Little Chap that Told Me to Holi.kr" .... 149. His Money's Worth of Clothes 150. An Unexpected Catastrophe 151. An Awful P'tch Over 152. Ha, Ha ! 153. An Exciting Ride in California 419 42.1 424 420' 430 431 432 438 I '^ !i 1 11: I XU LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 154. OiJNAMENTAI, INITIAL LliTTKK 441 155. "Shall I I'uay with You?" 443 166. My Audienck of Outcasts 444 l."}?. "I WONDEU WiiKKK My Boy Is" 440 158. A Desimchatio STi{U in jit one door a.s a funeral started from the otli.'r. 1'liree cheers for eidd water." We gave the cheers, and the cxHlramsellers came out and helped us. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. XUl 441 44;J 444 44(5 447 44S) 452 4-Ji 457 401 405 4()0 408 472 470 478 48:5 485 488 on- V lie loud cvor ik- iiit'o, 4(« 4!):i , , 4! 10 4118 . 501 501 502 5U4 'F. \ice 507 •Dllt lops nor iiiil ers, i m 1% '•"•'M 182. Drunken .Take 508 181}. A Sui)I)i;n Invasion '511 184. In Front or tuk Tavkrn 513 18.'j. " Look ! Look ! tiik I'raikik is on Firf, " 517 180. OuNAMiCNTAL Initiai, Li;tti:r 518 187. "Don't put mk out, I'm a Tektotalkr" 522 188. Tiik Past — Tuksday Niout, Oct.. 1842 525 181». OltNAMKNTAI. Imtiai, Lkttkr 528 100. Joi-, 531 101. 0\K Ykar Ai'ticuwakds 531 192. "YOU'IIK (JOMINO AGAIN, ARK YOU?" 534 193. A TIMELY RESCUE. A MEMORABLE INCIDENT IN MY CAREER. (Full Page.) Dksionkd iiv T. W. Wil- liams To fdcc 536 Sim \v:is very (Inink. The yoiiuf; inon wcro imsliinj; licr about in thl Webster's Testimony — Two Words Spoken in Season — Ruiu and Re- morse — "By and By" — A Persistent Lover — A Narrow Escape — " Come Down Wid Ye, Thady " — The Warfare of Life .... 71 CHAPTER n. TO YOUNG MEN — SOWING THE WIND AND REAPING THE WHIRLWIND— A TALE OF RUIN, REMORSE, AND DEATH. Sticking One's Hand in a Rattlesnake's Den — Beware ! — "Captain, There's One of 'Em"— Sowing Wild Oats — Gliding Down the Stream — "Be You a Drugger?" — The Verdant Young Man in Search of "Scentin' Stuff "—Smelling Round for the Right Thing — A Sniff That Astonished Him — The Story of Daniel Webster's Classmate — How Webster Tried to Save Him -His Tragic Death — " Get Up! Get Up! The Train is Coming!" — Cries of Despair from the Pit — A Road Strewn with Spectres — The Most Painful Scene I Ever Witnessed — Why the Boy Thrashed the Cat — A Cold Day for Puss — An Unexpected Scene at the Marriage Altar — The Story of Adam and His Whiskey Jug — Cramming Adam into the Closet — A Laughable Story — A Story of Ruin and Death — "Tom, Old Fellow, is This You?" — "Too Late. Jem, Don't Leave Me"— Taking the Wrong Direction. . . !f;l XV '1 1 xvi CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. FIUEND OR FOE?- TIIK DIVIDING LINE — WHERE DO YOU STAND? — SLAVE.S OK FASHION — LUDICROUS INCIDENTS. Till! Word " Hut" — roppiiij:; tlui (Juestion — Anecdote of Dr. Lawson — A Slim Coii^'rofjiilion — A Sermon That Was "Too Personal" — How Mrs. rieiiiinj,'t()n Stood It— A Duel in the Dark — Retreatini; Fp the Chimney — A Siu-prisi; to IJoth Parties — Giving a Reason — Defining Men's Position — "Three Cheers for Ehhir Gray" — Th(> Piank Cashier's Story — The Reason Why — Comical Excuses for Drinking — (Jrounds for Siisi)icion — Letting Down tlu; Bars — An Ugly Threat — Catching the Measles — Drinking in Society — Sipping in "Style" — Fashionable Dissipation — Silly Customs — A Ludicrous Picture — The DiUchman and His Lost "Poy" — Story of the Tempted Negro- A Coveted Pair of Hoots — "The Devil Says Take 'Em" — Queer Ideas of Faith — "Good- ness Gracious ! Has It Come to That ? " — Fuiniy Incidents — Forward — God Speed the Itight 113 CHAPTER IV. HLUNDERS, COMICAL. CURIOUS, SERIOUS. AND CRIMINAL, AND PEOPLE WHO MAKE THEM — FUNNY STORIES. Various Sources of Blunder's — Heading a Boy in a Barrel — Absent-minded People — Anecdote of Dr. Duncan — Amusing Incidents — ^linisterial Blunders — The "Pibrock and the Slogan" — The "Coisoned Pup" — Laughable Mistakes — Blunders of the Past — Blunders of Society — Irish Bulls — Killing a Man Twice — The " Red Cow" — Conunon Errors — Misuse of Words — Blunders in Language — A Musician with Carved Logs — Religious Horses — Hinnan Parasites — The Curse of Mormonism— Serious Blunders — Sowing Dragon's Teeth — Ottice Seekers— How to Secure Honest Legislation — Curious Bhuiders in Literature — Sacrificing Sense to Rhyme — The Lawyer and the Sailor — Neatly Caught — Funny Blunders — A Viper with Feet— "No. 45, Stick No Bills "—" Let Her Drop" — Moulting Angels — Take Your Soundings — Tho Prodigal Son 131 CHAPTER V. { I RETRIBUTION -PLAIN TALK AND XISCENCES OF MY DARK DAYS - PLAINER FACTS — REMI- - DELIRIUM TREMENS. I'lain Talk to a Scotch Audience — Street Sights and Scenes After Dark — Wretchedness and Woe — "Jem, Is My John in There?" — A Poor Woman's Plea — A Cowardly and Brutal Husband — Incident After Inci- dent—What 1 Saw on One of My Exploring Expeditions — Personal rONTKNTS. XVII DO YOU JENTS. ■■% iwson — A '-; 1" — How !■,' T'p the — Doliiiiiii; { ("ashior'a M — (i rounds -Civtchins .1 iisliioiiiiblt' 4 ■liniiin and ed Pair of — -'fJood- I'orward — . 113 lUMINAL, UES. ont-mindod Ministi'i'ial 1 riip" — ty — Irish Errors — itli Carved •iiionisin — How to Saerilicins it — Eunny Let Her 3 Prodigal 131 — REMI- MENS. tor Dark — — A Poor After Inci- I'ersonal I F^xpcripnoos — Scenes I Have Witnessed — Their EtTeet Upon Me — MciiiDries of My Days of Dissipation — A Terril)le Picture of Dellriiiin Tremens — A Vietini's Testimony — I'eetiliarities of tiie Disease — A Horrilile Experience — Transfixed Witli Terror — My Own Experience — Civility and Incivility — How I Was Snnl>l)ed in (Tiiu'ch — Kendinsccnccs of My Dark Days — A Itecliless Act — Tlie Drunkard's Sleep — Memory a Curse — A Eorgiving Wife — 'I'li(> Hardest Audience I Ever Faced — I Am Discouraged — The Miner Who Spoke After Me — His Wonderful Speech — Tramp, Tramp, Tramp — IJucklo On the Armor . . . 148 CHAPTER VI. -AS A MEDICINE - — A FAIR NAME EOU A FOUL THING— A PliEClOUS SCOUNDREL WITH A PIOUS FACE. Fault Finders — A Tipi)ling LL.D. — A Cheese Argument — Scene at a Dinner Party — Drink as a Medicine — Doctors Wlio Prescrilx! Liquor — A (Jood Deal anil Often — Effects of Alcohol on the Nervous System — T(>stimony of Two Tliousand Pliysicians — A Distinguished Physician's Opinion — Diseases Produccil by Alcohol — Personal Experience of an Eminent Surgeon — My Own Experience — An Exceedingly Suspicions Mixture — \ Compound Fearfidly and Wonderfully Made — Extraordi- nary Presci'iiitions — Mrs. McCarthy's "Noggin of Rum" — IIow the Upholsterer Got Even witli the Doctor — A (iood Story — Anecdote of Ptcv. Mr. Rcid — " Ask My Doctor '.' " — Sticking to tlie Same Remedy for Seven Years — An Offer to Tjoan a Tliousand Dollars — Chasing a Huljble — Jly Visit to Werner's Room — A Delightful Afternoon — A Musical Feast 170 CHAPTER Vn. SAFETY BETTER TITAN PJSK — TOUCHING HOME-SCENES — STARTLING FACTS AND UNDISPUTED TESTIMONY. Human Sacrific(>s — A Mother's Sad Story — Turning a Dissipated Son out of Doors — My Interview with Him — On tlie Edge of a Precipice— A Thrilling Incident— Mad With Delirium Tremens — A Fearful Leap— A Devoted Wife — A Story from Heal Life — That Little Word "No" — The Yankee Merchant and liis Eggs — A Laughable Story — Startling Facts — The Greatest Swindle of the Age — What I saw in a Distillery — Effect of Liquor on Animals — IIow it Affects the Human IJody — A Most Extraordinary Story — A Pliysieian's Horribh; Experiments— A Corpse Distended with Liqnor C;as — Puncturing the Roily and Lighting the Gas in Sixteen Places — Authentic and Undisputed Testimony — The Child's Rescue — A Thrilling Scene — A Very Obstinate Deacon — A Fimny Story — The Dutchman and His Setting Hen— Record of a Noble Woman — My Disagreeable Neighl)or 184 xvm CONTENTS. CHAPTER Vlir. FACT AND KICTION OF KVKItVDAV J, IFE — SMILING FACES AND TUEACIIEUOUS IIEAUTS— MEN WHO WEAR MASKS. N'liiicty the Since of Life — Dillii'iill 'riiiiij^'s for M(M() do — What I Aim to do — Lifo often a Di.s;;uisf — Snakes in the Grass — Men Wlio Wear Masks — Dnels, Debts, and "Innocent Aninsenu-nts" — A I'lM'sistenl Collector — •' I '11 Fix \r " — The Hoy and the Clieiry I'ie — Absurd Sen- tences — Anuising llhislralions — White Eies — Story of a Minister, a Hull, and a Hass Viol — A Matter-of-fact Musician — The Old Lady who was Struck by Lif^litniusi — FiOvini; '• I'^veryting zat is Jjcastly " — Woman's Wights — A Vision of Eden — " ISridgel IJridgell'' — An Aninialed I'oli- tical Discussion — Its Sudden End — A Laughable Story — A Cool Hoarder — His Oiiiiuoii of His Landlady's IJntler — Choosing IJetv.een Tliree Lovers — The (ai)tain's Device — liow it Wiiiked — Wasted Lives — Human Wrecks — Keal Heroes liOO CHAPTER IX. IN THE TOILS OF THE TEMPTEK — CHAHMED UNTIL CHAINED — THE BATTLE OF LIFE — A STAINED IIECOIH). The Old Lady and the Haystack — Driving Nails in One's O^vn Coflin — The (;r(M>n-eyed. Fiery-tongucd Scri)ent — Itobbing llirds' Nests — Susiiended in Mid-air — A F'lightfiil Position — Only a Single Strand IJelween Life and Death — A Thrilling Incident — Narrow Escape — My Frolic with a ('hild — A l>oy Again — The Drunken Loafer — Look on this Picture, tlu'u on That — Youth and Old Age Side by Side — A l'ictiu(! for Young Men — Past. Present, and Future — A Physician's Story — A Pathetic Incident — Alone — A Night in the Cold and Dark — A Little (iirl's Sad Story — The Old l-aily"s Feelings — "A Certain-sort-of-CJoneness " — Nearer and Nearer to the End — A Stained Ilecord — Life is What You (Jhoose to Make it — " Wherc^ Are Those Dogs Going ?" — Treasures Laid up Above — Life's liattlelield — Honorable Scars — A Disgraced Pegiment Winnhig Back its Colors — Honor Jlctrieved 22(i M CHAPTER y PREVENTION BETTER THAN CURE — THE PATHOS OF LIFE — CHILDP.EN BORN TO SIN AND SORROW. 'lell-tale Scars — A JFodern Life of Moses — Underrating the Capacity of Children — A Boy's Idea of How F'lies are Made — "Putting on 'em To- gether, and a-Fitting of 'em" — Saving Half Fare — "Only Ten, in the Cars" —A New Way to Sign the Pledge — A Father who Would not be CONTENTS. XIX FACES \!SKS. I Aim to 'ho Wciu- rcrsisti'iil ).siinl Scn- [iiiislcr, ii I,i((ly who W'oiiiaii's iiilcd I'oh- 1)1 Hoarilor >en Throe I Lives — . liOO IIAINEI) 1). tVin — The Siisiieiuleil Uvfcn Lift' ulie with ii IS I'icluri'. tor Yoiiuj; \ I'ullietif (iiiTs Sad Inriu'ss" — W liat You ii iircs Laid ,1 lli'Hiuieut. 'J2(i LIFE — Capacity of 311 'ein To- l"en, in the Lid not he Outdone hy His Boy — A True Incident — \Vliat the Jug Contained — Value of Children's Aid — An Inculent from My Own Experience — ('ries of Distress — A IVcp Over the Fence — A Triumphal Procession — What a Temperance I5oy Atromplishod — An Army OHiccr's Story — Cliarity Children — A Tour Tlwouf,'h iv Tenement House — What was Discovered Under the Itafters — A Dying Little Waif — Hiding from Father — Friendless and Motherless — An Affecting Scene- The Dying Hoy's Hymn — Death in a (Jarret — Rest at Last — How a Minister Argued the Points — Convinced — God Hless the Children 230 MY CHAPTER xr. POSITION DEFINED — REASON AND REVELATION -THE CURTAIN LIFTED -TALES OF THE FALLEN. A Titled Toll-Man — Learning versus Common Sense — Our Standpoint — An Actor with a Proud Record — Incidents of my First Visit to Califor- nia — " Help Me Out of This Hell " — A Cry of Agony — " Drink 's My Curso "— Lifting the Curtain — Secrets of the Charnel House — My Inter- view with a Physician- " It's No Use, I'm a Lost Laddie, Good-by" — A Clergyman's Sad Downfall — Employed as a Hostler in a Stable — " Yon Know Who I Am, go Away from Mc " — " Lost! Lost! LOST ! " — An Explorer's Testimony — An Interesting Narrative- A Campaign Full of Hardship and Danger — Soldiers Without Grog — What they Endured — Sir Henry llavelock's Report — Storming a Fortress after a March of Forty Miles — Sitting on a Hornet's Nest — A Boy's Com- position on a Pin — Stimulus not Strength 256 CHAPTER XII. WHO ARE THE VICTIMS ? — LIFE IN A BAR-ROOM — LIFE HISTORIES TRACED IN TEARS AND WRITTEN IN BLOOD. The Next Morning after a Spree — Maddening Thirst — A Visit to a -Gin Shop — Scenes Inside — Victims at the Bar — Horrible AVrccks and' Bloated Sots — The Suicide's Death-bed —Dreadful Scenes — The Ruling. Passion Strong in Death — "Mai7! Mary! I have Signed the Pledge " — The Sailor's Speech — A Realistic Dream — Life Histories Traced in Tears and Written in Blood — Women who Drink in Low Life — Fearful Degra- dation — The Dead Mother and Her Babe — The Negro .Jury's Ridiculous Verdict — Women who Drink in High Life — A Sad Story — An Awful Death — An Audience of Drunkards — .James ^IcCurroy — Inviting a .Sot to Sleep in his House — Burning the Bed Clothes next D.ay — Noble Act of a Noble Man — What Followed — The Prize Fighter's Story — Saved by Kindness — The History of a Grog-shop Fiddler — The Shipwreck — Man the Lifeboat! 270 XX CONTENTS. CHAPTER XIII. CURIOSITY — STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPHS OF MEN OF GENIUS — STORIES OF INQUISITIVE AND MEDDLESOME PEOPLE. Curiosity; What Is It? — What it Has Led To — UtiHzing Steam — Thrown into a Madhouse — " I am not Mad " — Left to Die — The Kilsby Tunnel — Hidden Quicksand — Solving the Problem — Stephenson's Stupendous Undertaking — The Electric Telegraph — Early Struggles of Prof. Samuel Morse — Gloomy Prospects — Help at Last — Unknown Heroes — Pick- wick and the Cabman — A Very Ancient Horse — An Inquisitive Com- panion — Judging from Appearances — "What Will You Give?" — A Printer's Self-Denial for His Little Blind Sister— A Noble Act — The Miser of Marseilles — His Will — Why He Hoarded His Gains — An Inci- dent in a Sleeping Car — A Bachelor's Experience — Taking Care of the Baby— Shakespeare's Skull — Story of the Philosopher and the Calf's Tail — Things We Do Not Know — Queer Reasons — " Who Made You ? " — Five Pounds of " Ditto " — Wonderful Scientific Facts ... 200 CHAPTER XIV. THE RUGGED ROAD TO SUCCESS— HEROES AND HEROISM IN HUMBLE LIFE— THRILLING INCIDENTS AND STORIES. Patience and Perseverance Necessary to Success — The Man who First Thought of the Steamboat — "Poor Fellow; He's Crazy Yet" — His Last Request — A Nobleman's Foolish Boast — Eating the Boiler of a Steamboat — Among the Cornwall Miners — A Thrilling Incident — Touching off a Blast at the Bottom of a Deep Shaft — A Montent of Ter- rible Suspense — "Up with Ye! I '11 be in Heaven in a Minute" — An Act of Noble Self-sacrifice — A Hero in Humble Life — The Explosion — Descending the Shaft — A Champagne Factory in New Jersey — Stepping into the Slush — Burnt Boots — A Hard Fight— Fable of the Cat and the Wily Mouse — Getting the best of the Cat — A Humorous Story — The Old Couple who "Swore off" — "Well, I will if you will" — A Meal of Toasted Cheese — Building the Temple 308 ' > CHAPTER XV. GOSPEL TEMPERANCE — ILLUSTRATIVE INCIDENTS AND STORIES — LEAVES FROM MY OWN EXPERIENCE. Why I Do Not Preach the Gospel — The Meanest Man I Ever Knew — The Grace of God — My Belief — Found Dead — The Frenchman and the City Missionary— An Honest Opinion— An Emphatic Statement— " Bosh" — Drinking First and Finding an Excuse Afterwards— A Clergyman's i CONTENTS. XXI 3F GENIUS PEOPLE. ,ni — Thrown vilsby Tunnel s Stupendous Prof. Samuel eroes — Pick- uisitive Corn- Give?"— A )le Act — The ns — An Inci- ig Care of the nd the Calf's Made You?" . . 200 IIEPvOISM IN STOIUES. Ian who First y Yet" — His le Boiler of a iig Incident — ouient of Ter- linute"— An |ic Explosiou — sey — Steppiug [f the Cat and jiorous Story — ou will" — A ... 308 ^NTS AND ENCE. Knew — The In and the City -nt-'T'Osh" Clergyman's Story — " I Take it as a Medicine " — A Dandy's Worthless Advice — A Negro's Practical Help— Power of Man's Will — My Horror of Drunken- ness—Terrible Dreams— "It Tasted Good"— My Idea of Shi — Want of Cordiality in Our Churches— Chilly Keception to Strangers— My Own Experience — Painful Truths — A Novel Way of Getting Acquainted — Looking Back Thirty Years — A Good Story- Betty and the Bear — The Hashand's Sudden Betreat to the Bafters— A Plucky Wife — " Take Him on the Other Side, Betty!" — "We" Have Done Gloriously . . 323 CHAPTER XVI. SLIPPERY PLACES — TRAPS FOR THE UNWARY — PATHETIC SCENES AND INCIDENTS — HOME SHADOWS. Alsopp's Breweiy — An Incident of My Visit to Old Virginia — Firm Con- victions — Ridiculous Arguments of Women — Extracts From Letters I Have Picceived — AVlien Does Drinking Become a Si." ? — How a Church Member Behaved at One of My Lectures — Moderate Drinking — How the Church Regards It — A Quaker's Advice to His Son — How Not to (ict Drunk — The Power of Will — The Fakir of India — Cries of De- spair — The Curse of the World — The Little Cripjile — A Pitiable Sight — Dreadful Alllictions — "I Am So Tired" — Patlielic Incidents — A Father's Prayer — Touching Home Scenes — "Hush ! Hush ! Hush !" — Dealing With Facts — A Father's Sad Story — A Terril)le Scene — The Power of Appetite — A ^Minister's Experience — A Night of Agony — Wrestling with the Destroyer — An Awful Fight — Onward, U])ward, Victory 342 CHAPTER XVII. WHO ARE RESPONSIBLE? — WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CITY STREETS -LIFE IN RAGGED HOMES- HOMELESS CHILDREN. Boys of the Street — Danger of Ch.ifling Them — Can They Be Rescued?— A Scene i Once Witnessed — Traiuing-Schools of Crime— IJfe Below the Surface- A City Slum— Dens of Ini(iuity and Vice— Filtli and Scpialor on Every Side — Herding Together Like Animals — My New Pair of Boots — Trying Them to See How They Fit— I Am Assailed by Swarms of Hoys- "Boots! Boots !" —Pelted with Potatoes and Carrots — My Ignominious Flight — The Boys and the Pumpkin Seeds — An Anxious Farmer- An Extraordinary Story of Crime — Appalling Facts— An Att'ecting Story of Hospital Life— Two Little Invalids — One Crushed. tlie Otlicr Starved — " Bobby, Did Vou Ever Hear of Jesus ?" — Propping Up the Sick Boy's Arm — Dead; His Little Hand Held Up for Jesus — A Street Scene in London — The Claims of Humanity — The Burning Ship — A Noble Act — True Heroism 35s xxii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVIII. NOW AND THEN; OR, PAST, PIIESENT, AND FUTURE — PER- SONAL EXPERIENCES AND REMINISCENCES, Past, Present, and Future — What We Owe to the Past — Our First Centui-j' — One Hundred Years Ago — A Bundle of Stamps — Exciting Times — A Memorable Snow-ball Fight — Discovering Tea in Iler Hus- band's Shoes — "Disperse, Ye Rebels" — Determined Patriots — "Who Is That Person?" — "Will He Fight ?" — Antony Burns, the Fugitive Slave — How He Was Marched Through the Streets of Boston — Wonder- ful Progress — Fifty Years Ago — Crand Achievements — How We Printed When I Was a Boy — The liight of Other Days — Travelling in the Olden Time — Personal Experiences — Three Miles an Hour — "I Must Take a Pill" — My Ride on the First Railroad Built in America — The Electric Telegraph — Reminiscences of J[y Boyhood — The Tele- phone — The " Fire Cart " — An Old Couple's idea of 'i'clegrapliing — A Negro's Description — The " Puir Whales " — Jonathan Hull — " I'm the Nineteenth Century " 377 CHAPTER XIX. DANGER SIGNALS —NOTES OF WARNING FROM EARLIER DAYS AND SCENES — RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PAST. Lamentable Ignorance — Thin-skinned People — How Some of Them Show Their Indignation — Proving a Man a Liar — Gentility is Not Always Respectability — Clothes Do Not Always Proclaim the Man — "A Man's a Man for a' That " — The Curtain Lifted — A Peep Behind the Scenes — Personal Recollections — ^My First Address in Boston — Recalling My Theatrical Days — Companions of My Youth — Tragic Deaths — Fate of Some of My Comrades — An Incident in (;lasgo\\ — A Dastardly Act — Terriljle Consequences That Followed — Found Dead Among the Rushes — My Visit to the Indianapolis Lunatic Asylum — Raving of Devils. Snakes, and Creeping Things — "Oh! How They Glare at Me!" — "'J'liey Creep! Tliey Crawl!'' — Awful Scenes — Graphic Pen Picture of a Toper — The Devil's Workshop — Satan's Abode — Calling His Satellites Around Him — Alcohol, the Right Hand of the Devil — An Uncom- promising Fight 390 CHAPTER XX. WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR? — LIFE IN THE BAGK STREETS OF NEW YORK— VOICES FROM THE SLU.AIS. Fast Young Men — Seeing a Little of Life — A Sea Captain's Story — What One Glass of Rum Did — A Young Man's Story — A Son's Hand Stained I ( CONTENTS. XXIU E — PER- Our First -Exciting Her IIiis- 5 _ " Who ic Fugitive - Wonder- How We -avcUing in Hour- "I America — Tlie Telc- ipliing — A -'Tm the . 377 EARLIER PAST. riicni Show ot Always " A Man's lio Scenes — ailing My IS — Fale of inlly Act — he Rushes— ils. Snakes, ' — "They dure of a is Satellites An Uncom- . 390 REETS OF ory — What rami Stained with Blood !— ''Out, Damned Spot"— What is a True Gentleman? — A Letter Currier's Story— Calling Her Neighbor a "Hindewidual " — " I Ups with a Pail of Water," etc. — Leaders of Society — Women Who Fol- low Them— John Pounds, the Portsmouth Cobbler — Noble Women — Clara Barton's Self-sacrifice and Heroism — The Iron Cross of Germany — The "Old Brewery'' in New York — Murderers' Alley — What a Police- man Told Me — A Dreadful Locality — Human Fiends —Stripping a Corpse and Selling the Grave Clothes — Raising the Money to Buy the Place- A Memorable Meeting — A Street Scene in New York- Little Mary Morrison— Godspeed the Right 407 CHAPTER XXI. WILL IT PAY? — LIFE'S OPPORTUNITIES — GROTESQUE SCENES AND AMUSING STORIES — ON THE BRINK. Men Who Cannot Understand a Joke — " The Little Chap That Told Me To Holier" — First-class Stupidity— " Comfortably " Full — The Stingy Drinker— Drinli's Direful Work — Breaking a Mother's Heart — Scenes in a Lunatic Asylum — Raving Idiots — A Tipsy Lover — A Visit to the Pig-sty — An Unlooked-for Catastrophe — Another Pig in the Pen — "I Am as Good as Any of Y'ou" — Fighting the Pump — An Unceremonious Tip-over — The Tipsy Students — Decidedly Muddled — Kicking I'>ach Other Out of Bed — A Grotesque Scene — The Indian and His Fire- water — ''Only This Once" — A Clergyman's Downfall — A Wife's Story — In Jail — Reminiscences of Forty Y'ears Ago — An Appeal to Young Men — Coach Driving in California — A Death-beil Scene — "I Can' t Find the Brake" — Sowing Wild Oats 423 CHAPTER XXII. OUR DUTY TO THE FALLEN— BRANDS PLUCKED FROM THE BURNING — STORY OF THE WICKEDEST MAN IN NEW YORK. An Incident of the War— Clean Linen First, Religion Afterwards —Work Among the Poor and Depraved — Dens of Vice — Bread Before Tracts — Speaking to an Audience of Eiglit Hundred Outcasts — The Wickedest Man in New York —Story of Orville (Jardiner- A Mother's Love for a Wayward Son — A Thrilling Experience — A Nine Hours' Fight with a Jug of Whisky — A Thoroughly Reformed Gambler and Prize-fighter — Tempted at Communion Service — Cutting it Off ".as Square as a Piece of Cheese " —Daily Trials — Trusting in God — My Boyish Dislike of Attending Church — Incident of a Lecture Tour in Ohio — Sad Down- fall of a Once Devoted Christian Woman — A Jlinister Drunk in His Own Pulpit — Scene at One of My Lectures — Selling the L.ist Blanket for Rum — Death and Desolation — The Breach i.i the Dike — A Thrilling Story of Holland Life 441 xxiv CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXIII. MEN AND METHODS. MANNERS AND MORALS OF OUR OWN TIMES — ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. Reflection — Aping Extravagance — Reginaing Life Where Their Fathers Left Otf — Otkl Reasons for Getting Married — Butterflies of Fashion — Olil Aiuit Cliloe — " Tie 'Em Together " — The Husband Who rroclainicd Himself "a Regular Julius Ctesar"— What His Wife Thought About It — "Who Keeps This House?"— How the Question Was Settled- Family Jars— " Will the Sheriff Sell Me?"— Power of Money — Spoils of Ortice — "(Irandpa, Have a Weed?" —Old-time Politeness — Dif- ference P>etween " Then " and " Now " — " I Knocks ^ly I5oys Down and They Ain't Good " — Influence of Example — A Father's Cruel Act — "Do It Again. Papa" — Henry Clay and the Farmer — John on His Knees — The Ship Captain and the Sailor — Past and Present — Elisha Kent Kane — A Remarkable Career — One of Sin's Victims — A Dark I'icture — Broken Hopes and Buried Aspirations — The Alabaster Box 4G1 CHAPTER XXIV. FOR THE SAKE OF OTHERS — LESSONS DRAWN FROM LIFE — HUMAN WRECKS — ILLUSTRATIVE STORIES AND FACTS. Death's Harvest Field — The Fatal Sliding Scale — What I Saw in a Railway Carriage — A Terrible Spectacle — Father, Mother, and Child Intoxi- cated — A Mother's Story — The Rapids at Niagara Falls — Fascination of Danger — A Terrible Tragedy — "Stand Back! stand Back!" — The P^ital Plunge — Story of the Poor Emigrant Woman — A Mother's Love — "Fire!" — "Make Way There. Police!" — Temptations of a Great City — An Incident of Chicago Life — Return of the Prodigal Son — A Scene in a London Cellar — A City Missionary's Story — Horace (Jreeley — Wo Visit Senator McConnell — His Wretched Appearance — Tender Re- gard for His Wife — A Precious Memento — "Give Up the Drink? Never!"- His Awful Death — A Two-bottle Man — The Old Scotch Bailie ! — Fir.'-side Thoughts — Captain Creighton and the Ship "Three Bells" — Terrible Suspense — Great Rejoicing 478 CHAPTER XXV. POWER OF EXAMPLE — LIFE IN A GREAT CITY — STORY OF DRUNKEN JAKE — SCENES IN MY EARLIER DAYS. "Don't Believe It " — Incredulous People — Street Children —Little Crea- tui-e8 in Tatters and Filth — The Mouth of Hell — "I Have a Terrible CONTENTS. XXV OWN Bunch on My Side " — Fool's Tence — A GooJ Story — " Dip Your Scone in Your Own Gravy " — A Tougli Audience — A Leaf from My Experience in t'onnectieut — A Marvellously Interesting Story — Thrilling Scenes — Bribing Drunken Jake to Disturb the Meeting — An Unexpected Kesult — A Happy Day — Personal Experience in Vermont — Another Tough Auilience — ^Villing Hands and Hearts — My Proposition to Twenty-seven I^adies — '* Hark ! There Is the IJell I " — Itemarkable Scenes — Interest- ing Itominiscences — My Experience in Cincinnati — P. T. IJarnum and Jenny Linil — Mr. Bariuim Offers Five Thousand Dollars for the Use of a Church — Why His Offer Was Declined — " Look ! The Prairie Is on Fire!"— Faith in God 496 CHAPTER XXVI. THE GREAT CONFLICT IN ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND — THE DESTllOYER'S MAllCH — PERSONAL WORK AND EXPERIENCES. The Temperance Cause in England — Mr. Spurgeon's Opinion — Alarming Increase of Dram-shops — London — Different Classes of Society — Grave Apprehensions for the Future — The Tide of Evil — Drinking Among Women — FighJ^ing the Demon of Intemperance — My Labors in Eng- land — The Hardest Work of Thirty Years — Powerful Champions — Iloxton Hall — Its Former Vile Reputation — Touching Scenes — Imi- tating Jerry McAuley's Mission — Work Among the Raggcil and Wretched — Rational Enjoyment for the Homeless — Edinburgh — A Total Abstinence Club-room — A Drunken Teetotaller — Seeking Safety — Testimony of Eminent Physicians — A Remark.able Incident — Recollec- tions of the Past— A Leaf from My Own Experience — An Awful Struggle — Rev. C. II. Spnrgeon — How I Became Acquainted with Him — Mrs. Spnrgeon — A Noble Woman — Disobeying the Doctor — Mr. Spurgeon's Substitute for Beer 573 CHAPTER xxvn. POWER OF WOMAN'S INFLUENCE -SOCIAL CUSTOMS THAT LEAD TO RUIN — MEMOR.VBLE INCIDENTS IN MY CAREER. J' Woman's Power and Influence — A True Incident — How Joe Was Induced to Sign the Pledge — One Year Afterwards — A Romantic Story — An Intemperate Lover — A Romance from Real Life — A Telling Crusade Against a Dram-shop — A Well-Planned Campaign — An Astonished Rumscller—" Worse Than it Was Yesterday" —Deciding Who Was the Head of the House — A Memor.able Incident in My Career — Twenty Years After- Young Girls Who Drink — The Downward Path — A Lover Tempted by His Affi.anced — The Shaft of Ridicule — The Fall — Tempter .and Tempted — Found De.id — Social (^istoms That Lead to Ruin — Unwelcome Guests — Incidents of My Work in Cincinnati — A XXVI CONTENTS. Shower of One Hundred and Forty-three Autograph Albums — Writing the Pledge in Each One — What Followed — A Flood of Eight Hun- dred Albiuus — Story of the Colored Preacher — Jumping Through a Wall 528 CHAPTER XXVIII. RANDOM THOUGHTS — STORIES AND SKETCHES FROM BOTH SIDES OF LIFE — GLEANINGS OF A LEISUIiE HOUK. Religion in Everyday Life — Silent Influence — The Sentry of Pomiicii — Faithful Unto Death — Origin of the Term "Teetotal" — Dickey Turner — Death Before Bondage — Trading in Human Lives — The Auction-block — A Strong Man's Agony — Clinging to Respectability — The Traveller and His Gold — Seeking Shelter — The Pioneer's Hut — An Hour of Fear and Trembling — "It's Time to Go to Bed" — A Re- markable Incident — Anecdote of a Poor Negro — "Come, Cato, Get Up" — A Thrilling Incident — A Disabled Steamer — Drifting Toward the Shore — Power of Christian Example — A Ship in Distress — Tlie Alarm Gun — Launching the Lifeboat — "I Will Go ; Who Will Follow Me " — Pulling for Life — Saved at Last — The Moderate Drinker — The Negro and His Potato Patch — A Disastrous Invjffion — Old Tom's Pigs — " Pay De Damage" — "Daddy Moses" — Imparting Strength to Others 548 CHAPTER XXIX. MODERATION — THE CUP OF DEATH — THE HUMOROUS SIDE OF DRUNKENNESS - THE DARK SIDE. f . A Minister's Dangerous Advice — Men Who "Can't Stand It" — Story of the Church Member Who Went After a Load of Wood — Taking a " Nip" to Keep Out the Cold — Another "Nip" — A Ludicrous Tableau — Listening to an Account of a Surgical Operation — I Am Compelled to Leave the Room — An Actor's Foolish Wish — " Cuttings-up" — A Story for the Benefit of Young AVomen — An Unwilling Bride- groom — The Humorous Side of Drunkenness — Ludicrous Incidents — " Tooilles " — " That 's the Way I Always Come Down Stairs" — Anecdote of Bishop Clarke — The Man Who Swallowed the Spool of Silk — "Wife! Wife 1 I'm All Unravelling" — A Good Story — An Exceedingly Comical Situation — The Dark Side — A Bridegroom Sentenced to be Hanged — What Riun Did 562 CONTENTS. XXVU — Writing igbt Ilun- 'hroiigh a . 528 M BOTH ■! )UI{. ■i Pompeii — ' — Dickey -^^^ ives — The J^ ctability — '-^1 r's Hut — '^m "— AKc- -'Iw' Cato, Get "^'t- ig Toward 4 ress — Tlie Vill Follow 1 iker — The Did Tom's ^li Strength to ■ ■'t!;. . 548 )US SIDE — Story of a "Nip" Tableau — 'oinpelled ,'s-up"- uii: IJride- Incidents Stairs" the Spool i Story — bridegroom 562 CHAPTER XXX. THE REASON WHY — THE FmST GLASS — RECOLLECTIONS OP MY FATHER— HUMOROUS STORIES. Standpoint — Opposition We Meet — An Obliging Blacksmith — My Respect for Other People's Opinions — Power of Truth — What Makes Public Sentiment — Our Duty — A Funny Stoi^ as Told by Hiohop Clark — A Disputed Question in Astronomy — A Laughable Incident — An Unnatural Appetite — The Struggle of a Lifetime — Why I Am Polite to Dogs — Giving the Curs a Wide Berth — My Dread of Hydro- phobia — What Rev. E. II, Chapin Said — Terrible Results of the First Glass — A Graphic Picture — Recollections of My Father — His Habit of Moderate Drinking — His Death at Ninety-four — Advice to ^loilerate Drinkers — An Infamous Example — The Man at the Top of the Church Spire — A Dangerous Position — "O Sandy, I'm having an Awfu' Tumble" — Talking to a Plug of Tobacco — A Physician's Story — An Inveterate Smoker — Smoked to Death 582 . CHAPTER XXXr. AGENTS OF THE DEVIL — HOW LIQUOR-SELLERS PAUPERS, FEED JAILS, AND INCITE CRIME. MAKE Truthful Sign-board —Specimens of the Rumseller's Work — A Remi- niscence of Other Days — A Pitiable Spectacle — Placing a Drunkard on Exhibition at a Fair — Fruit of the Dram-Shop — Protecting the Rum- seller — Fearful Responsibility— Remarkable Offer of P. T. Barnum — Stubborn Facts — Startling Figures — Sad Results — Haunts of Vice — Where Criminals and Paupers Come From — Hot-beds of Crime— A Sug- gestive Incident — Empty .Tails — Terrible Scenes — Newgate Prison — A Pocket With a Hole in It — An Incident of London Life— Sunday Scene at the Seven Dials — Watching the Door of " The (Jrapes " — A Wretched Crowd — Disgraceful Scenes — A Terrible Threat Against My Life — Amusing Incident — Recalling My Dark Days — A Faithful Wife — "John, Don't be Soft" — Incident of the Great Coal Strike — IIow to Blot Out the Curse 597 CHAPTER XXXn. ANNIHILATION OUR WAR CRY — FRUIT OF THE DRAM-SHOP — BRUTES IN HUMAN FORM — THE t)AWN OF DAY. My First View of Niagara Falls — " Back ! Back for your Lives " — Receiv- ing His Just Deserts — Moral Suasion — A Poor Woman's Story — A Brute in Human Form — A Mother's Plea — "For God's Sake Spare ^1 XXVlll CONTENTS, My Child ! " — Tlie Lowest of the Low — Your Money and Your Life — A Mother's Grief — A Tour of Observation after Dark — What I Saw — Dreadful Scenes in a Whiskey Shop — Pettyfogging Shysters — Blood- monoy — Trial by Jury — " Did You Smell It ? " — The Patient Old Man and His llay — A Young Man's Story — A Thrilling Incident — Carrying Home the Dead I5ody of His Father — Temperance Bitters — The Jury and the Stolen Bacon — A Foregone Conehision — A Corrupt Judge — Eetributive Justice — "A Bit of Bread, Please, for I'm Iliuigry" — Pull- ing a Tooth by Degrees — An Astonished Partner — Steps in the Eight Direction C17 SOUTH VIEW OF MB. GOUOU'S KESIDENCE. !: t I i ''% ir Life — at I Saw — Blood- Old Man - Carrying The Jury Judge — " — Pull- the Right . C17 .c.:^.A.< )i^ ./^ :i ^HE stftiy of the life and work of John B. Gough is the story of the progress of the toinper- aiice refornuition for the past forty years. I propose in these pages to give tlie essen- tial facts in the history of that reformation, a movement as inllnential in its bearing on the welfare of the human race as any in the h)ng campaign between light and darkness, good and evil ; the essential facts, too, in the story of that life, a life dramatic in its experiences, and striking in its contrasts of suidight and shadow, more so than is often to be seen on life's stage, whose tragedy and comedy tread so closely on each other's heels. * It is proper to state here, to guard against any possible misapprehension, that I was reiiucsted by the puhlisliers to i)rcpare this introduction ; that I have liad no consultation with Mr. (lough respecting its character or contents, and have derived no inforniatiou from him in its preparation, though, during his absence from liome, I had access in his library to his records and S(;rap-books; that all the matters herein described are matters of public record, chietly, however, scattered through newspapers and periodical publications during the past forty years; that while some ii irts of the history here told have never been connectedly told before, the auiliority for it lias all been before tlie public and is nuitter of public record ; and, finally, that as Mr. Oough has not been consulted nor conferred with during the preparation of this introduction, neither will he see it till he sees it in print. Whatever responsibility attaches to its publication attaches wholly to the publishers and to myself; with its production Mr. Gough has had nothing whatever to do; and for it aud its utterauces he has uo responsibility. 2U 80 PLATFORM ECHOES. l!t l( j: Prior to the seventeenth century drunkenness did not differ essentially, as a vice, from gluttony. One was excess in drinking ; the other was excess in eating. It is true that alcohol intoxicates ; and that alcohol, in distinctly appre- ciable quantities, exists in all fermented juice of the fruits of the earth. But it is also true that intoxication produced by fermented licjuors is a distinctly dil'l'orent phenomenon from intoxication produced by distilled liquors. Drunkenness, in the worst of lionuin debauches, did not produce the madden- ing iniluences produced in our own time by strong drink. Drunkenness, as a vice, has existed ever since the days when the sons of Noah endeavored to hide the shame of their father's nakedness. But the epoch of drunkenness as an epidemic dates from the close of the seventeenth century. It was in that century that the dangerous and deadly art of distillation came into use. B}'- this process the alcohol is separated from the product in which nature has evolved it. It can be easily converted into an attractive if not a pala- table drink. This strong drink is a dangerous and even a deadly poison. Used at first as a specific for the })lague, it speedily came into general use as a medicine, then as a stimu- lant and beverage. The downward history of many an indi- vidual repeats the downward history of the European races, es])ecially in the North. Lecky, in his history of the eigh- teenth century, gives a fearful picture of the extent to which the habit of diinking and the vice of drunkenness had taken hold of all classes of society in England. The medicine originally prescribed for the plague had proved worse than the disease. lUird drinking had become a national habit. It pervaded all classes from the highest to the lowest. Addison, the foremost moralist of his time, was not free from it. Ox- ford, whose private character was in most respects singularly liigh, is said' to have frequently come intoxicated into the very presence of the Queen. Bolingbroke, when in office, sat up whole nights drinking, and in the morning, having bound a wet napkin around his forehead and his eyes, to drive away the effects of his intemperance, hastened without Bleep to hid official business. When Walpole was a young I II !: rs INTRODUCTION. 81 did not 5 excess •ue that appre- fiuits of uced by :oii tVom mess, in niadilen- cT drink. 3's wlien of their ss as an century, ly art of Icohol is olved it. t a pala- .1 even a )higne, it ! a stimn- an indi- m races, the eigh- to which id taken nedicine rse tlian abit. It Addison, it. Ox- ngularly into the in office, , having eyes, to without a young man liis father was accustomed to pour into his glass a double portion of wine, saying, "Come, Robert, you shall drink twice while I drink once; for I will not permit the son, in his sober senses, to be witness to the intoxication of his father." The fashion set by the high was quickly followed by the low. In half a century the quantity of distilled liquors sold rose from 527,000 to over 5,000,000 gallons. "Retailers of gin were accustomed to hang out painted boards announcing that their customers could be made drunk for a penny, and dead drunk for twopence, and should have straw for nothing ; and cellars strewn with straw were accordingly provided, into which those who had become insensible were dnigged, and where they remained till they had sutliciently recovered to renew their orgies." A law imposing a heavy tax on the sale of liquor was resisted by violent riots and evaded by clandestine sales. The drinking habits imported originally from Holland into England were imported thence, or directly from its birth-place, to this coun- try. Drinking was universal ; drunkenness was no crime, hardly a social vice. In New England all the stores kept New England rum, and it was the custom to give a drink to any trader who drove a considerable trade. Strong drink was luiiversally provided, not only at all entertainments, but on all special occasions — house-warmings, hay-makings, and the like. Both in England and America drunkenness was regarded as an amiable weakness, or a good joke ; the current opinion respecting it is faithfully represented in Charles Dickens's "Pickwick Papers," published in 1835—36, and read in all circles of society without a protest. The church did little to rebuke the drunkenness, and did much to en- courage the driidving customs of society. At ordinations and dedications it was not unusual for the church to provide for its guests, out of the church treasury, not only wines and beer, but whiskey, gin, and rum. It was as customary for the host on such occasions then to provide alcoholic drinks, as it would be now for him to provide tea and coffee. Dr. Lyman Beecher thus describes the scene, evidently not an unusual one : — 32 PLATFORM ECnOES. !; 18 "At thfi ordination at rijrmoutli, tlie preparation for oiir creature com- forts, ill tlie sittinji-rooin of Air. Heart's liousc, beslilcs food, was a broad sideboard covered witli decanters, and l)oltles, and sugar, and pitcliers of water. Tlicre we found all the varions kinds of liquors then in voruc. The drinking was apparently universal. Tliis preparation was made by the Society as a matter of course. When the Consociation arrived, they always took something to drink round; also before public serv'ices, and always on their return. As they could not all drink at once, they were obliged to stand and wait as people do when they go to mill. " There was a decanter of spirits also on the dinner-table, to help diges- tion, and gentlemen partook of it through the afternoon and evening as they felt the need, some more, some less; and the sideboard, with the spilling of water, and sugar, and liquor, looked and smellcd like tlie bar of a very active grog-shop. None of the Consociation were drunk; but that there was not, at times, a considerable amount of exhilaration, I cannot atlirm." * From a very early period isolated attempts were made to regulate or to restrain these drinking luibits. In 1G76 a new constitution of Virginia contained a clause prohibiting the sale of wines and ardent spirits. In 1777 Congress passed a resolution recommending the several legislatures to " pass laws the most effective for putting an innnediate stop to the pernicious practice of distilling grain." In 1789 a tem- perance society was formed in Litchfield, Conn., to discuss the use of spirituous liquors. Resolutions of total absti- nence were passed a few years later by the Quarterly Metho- dist Episcopal Conference of Virginia and the Presbyterian Synod of Pennsylvania. But these spasmodic and local movements accomplished only temporary and local results. At the close of the first quarter of the present century, though there were some temperance reformers, there was no movement in either England or the United States sufficiently general to be worthy of being called a temperance reforma- tion. Such a movement never has a single source. Like a mighty river, it rises from half a score of springs, and is augmented in its flow by many more. One of the springs of the temperance movement in this country was furnished by Dr. Lyman Beecher's famous Six Sermons on Intemperance, * Lyman Beecher's autobiography, vol. i. chap, xxxvii. Compare " History of the Temperance Afovement," by Rev. J. B. Dunn, D.D,, in the "Centennial Temperance Volume," pp. i^S, i'id. L INTRODUCTION. 83 cature com- vas a broad pitchers of ,ORiie. The f the Society always took [lys on tlieir stand and ) help digcs- ■ninp as they le spillin-; of a very active e was not, at B made to G76 a new biting the ss passed a to " pass stop to the S9 a teni- to discuss otal absti- rl}- jNIetbo- esbyterian and local iiil results, t century, re was no .ufficiently e refornia- Like a gs, and is springs of rnisbed by niperance, ^are " History ' ' Centennial 1 4 1 I in 1825. The impulse was furnished l)y a sad but not un- common case ; the father and husband of a Ciiristian woman in a neighborhood wliere he preached became victims of the drink. The sermons were preached in his country parish at Litclifield, Conn. But the intense excitement which they aroused was not confined to the neighborhood. Tiiey were printed. Other mi. listers took up tlie theme. Tlie con- science of New England was lircd. Wliiskcy and rum were banished, first from tlie sideboard on ordination occasions, then from tlie minister's tables altogether. In fifteen years nineteen twentieths of the clergy of New England were liabitual if not total abstainers. The ministers of New England were at that time the leaders of society. Total abstinence became socially respected. Drunkenness became recognized as a vice. Wine, boer, ale, and cider still re- mained common table drinks; but New England rum and Irish whiskey gradually disappeared, first from the side- board, then from the table, little by little from the closet. In ten years the consumption of strong drink had been decreased more than one half per capita. The population had increased forty per cent; the amount of strong drink consumed had decreased forty per cent. The temperance movement had be ''four liftlis of all the lloston druid^ards had sii-iHMl the pledge." Horn in u tavern, ami apostled by reformed drnidvith any settled purpose. An t)ld programme of a concert in which he was evidently the "• star," aflbrds a fair illustration of his professional position. I venture to copy a part of it : — CON'CICUT AT AMESHL'IiV. ,v Mr. M. a. Stanwood and Mr. (". Warien rospoctfiilly inform tho ladies ■^ and ficiitlcMicn of Anicshtiry. that tlicy will give a cont'iTt at Franklin Hall, ■^' tills cveuiiij;, Maridi lii'. for the purpose; of iiitroducinsj; tho Acfordion into uso, as it is thoujjht by many to l)e an instrument that eannot he performed on. The perfonnanee will eonsist of some of the most popular music from the latest operas. ^[|', JoiiN' 1). (loccn, the celehratod singer from the Xcw York and Boston theatres, will also appear in his most popular son^s. The programme included live songs and three reeitations by ^Ir. (Jougli. The tickets were twenty-five cents. He married; liis sister had already married and was livino- in I'rovidence — still lier home. Hut marriage did nothing to mend either his ways or his fortunes; drink had become an uncontrollable passion ; his wife and infant child died ; and he drank more deei)ly to drown his griel". Wiien he had no money he earned his driidc by telling facetious stories and ringing comic songs to tiie crowd in (he bar-room. More than once he meditated suicide; once almost accomplished it, but dashed the laiidamun from his lips and lived on. He had one attack of delirium tremens. He had reached the bottom of the descending grade; he was withciut friends, or home, or ho[)e. We shall not attempt to tell here the story of liow ho was rescued from this death in life by love. It is a familiar story, which Mr. (iongh has often told. A stranger arrests him on the street by a touch and a word of Idndness ; an invitation to sign the jjledgo arouses a (les[)airing resolution ; he re- solves and signs; he knows not when it is done whether to 38 rLATFon.M K( IIOKS. ■ 1 P f ,v\, be glad or sorry; ii secuiul iVieiid calls on liiiii at liis bench, bringing words ot' cliccr and liuiu- : he battles with liis a]»iietite, a iVighlliil battle but a victorious one; tlie tem- perance meetings take tiie ]>laee of the bar-room and the theatre; tem[)eranee friends take the place of the old cronies; in their respect he linds his owJi seli'-res[)ect ; he begins liis new lil'e. That he sliould have been at once invited to s{K>;d<. on tem])erance ijlatl'orms was as natural then as it would bo under simihir circuriistances xuuiatural now. The temper- ance meetings in those days were exj)erienco meetings. 'J'hey were held in distiict sciiool-houses, court-houses, or public halls. The churches were occasionally, but liy no means very t'omnionly. opened to them. Mr. (lough gives a humorous picture of one of his lirst exi)eriences as a public speaker in a district school-house. lie had not resjiectable clothes and Avas compelled to hide them beneath an old overcoat snugly buttoned up to the chin. 'J'he ])latl'onn was close to a well-heated stove. The heat of tli(! ro(»m, the active exertion, of the sj)eaker, and the warmth of the overcoat threatened to dissolve; him. Tem- })erate habits and a little money from friends or from school- house lectures enabled him before long to buy better ap])arel. Invitati(.)ns to speak began (o flow in upon liini. Jle obtained leave of a1)sence from his employers for a week or two, leaving a })ile of unbound Bibles on his bench to be completed on hisr(>turn. He has never returned to his bookbinder's ])ench since. Amliences increased ; reitutalion increase(L Wherever he went he made friends. Society oj)ened its doors to him. .Among his earliest auditors was a i\Iiss Mary AVhitcond), tlaughter of a New England farmer, who had left honu> at eighteen and was alternately leac^hing and attending school when she met the young orator. She was charmed witJi him ; he with her; on tin; l24tli of Novem- ber, 184:), they were nuirried. She brought him those stay- ing and steadying ([ualities — that strength of decision and that practical wisdom — which the impulsive, ardent, sensi- tive orator needed. She atUled tenacity to liis earnestness. k INTHODUf'TIOX. 39 s bencli, vitU bis tlie teiu- and the the old >eet ; be spealv ou ,V()ukl be ; teiuper- meetuigs. lousos, or it )»y no f bis lirst ool-bouse. hI to bide ,ip to tbe ove. Tbe 'I-, luid tbe iui. Tem- iiii scbool- uy belter upon biiii. ers for A bis l)eiieb ■tu'd to Ids lepiitatiou . Society tors "Wiib a 11, (I i'arnier, y teacluug ator. Sbe of Koveni- tbose stay- ccisioii and lent, seiisi- arnestness. Wliat tbe world owes to Mr. (Jougb it jiartly knows; what it owes through liini to Mrs. (iough it does uot suspect. With nuirriage the old life faded gradually away ; the new life dawned rapidly. Friends gathered about him ; some merely to (latter ; some really to love. Among the fastest and best, ol' these friends was Deacon Moses Grant, of Dr. Latii- rop's (Unitarian) church of Boston, wlio became an adviser and friendly manager for the young bicturer. lie travelled throucfh New England, visited New York, Philadeli)hia, Washington, Richmond. His i)0])ularitv as an orator in- creased; iiis fame widiMied. The story of the ovations given to him and tlu; oratorical triumphs won by him it is no part of our purpose here to relate. Tliese are the epiiemeral facts in a noble and iisc'ful life; we are here concerned only with the work done and with the principles which underlie it. Mr. (lough's popidarity was partly a I'csult of his prin- ciples, lb' introduced a new spirit and gradually new methods into the temi)erance reformatit)n. He took no part in the not uncommon criticism of the (•hurches. He early became a nuMuber of the ]\b)unt Vernon Church of Boston — the liev. Dr. Edward N. Kirk's. He gradually lifted the temperance mo'-ement from a mere moral reform movement to a religious ])laiie. He sjjoke in the vernacular of the com- mon j)eo})le ; but be did not shock tbe sensibilities of bis audiences by vulgarities or their charity by denunciations. The churches opened their doors to him. In New York city he spoke in fourteen different churches, re])resenting several different denonnnations. At Yale and Princeton he was warmly welcomed l)y the students; in the latter college he was elected a member of one of the literary societies. His youth — he was about twenty-seviMi — his small stature, thin melancholy face, and bright eyes — which could and still can flash fire under excitement — won for him attention before he began to s[)eak. His lluent language, bis dranuitie action, his intense and impassioned earnestness, bis suppi'cssed feel- ing, and the ligbtinng-like ra|)idity with which he changed the moods of the audience with bis own from the Inimorous to the pathetic, took all audiences by storm. We draw this 40 I'LATFOltM KCIIOHS. I 4 1 l)ictiiro wholly from c()iiU'in[)oraneous ]ie\vs[)apois, and give it almost in the words of the newspapers whieh describe him. His career from I84:i onward has been one of steadily increasing oratorical fame and j)opularity. ]>nt his life was by no means merely an ovation. It was yet more a battle, lie had enemies without and worse enemies witliin. Once he broke his ])ledge. It was about five months after he had taken it. A physician ])rescribed medicine for him for an old illness. It contained ether and alcohol. It awoke the old appetite and he yielded to it. The lapse was not a serious one ; except as every lapse is serious. He re-signed the pledge, yielded to the counsels of his friends, and resumed his woi'k. Two years and a half later he sufhM'cd a more terrible experience, which has been fully related in his autobiography, A stranger claimed acquaintance with Mr. (iough and invited him to take a glass of soda-water with him. The invitation was accei)ted. The soda-water was drugged, and Mr, (Jough, in the state of semi-iuiconscnousness which resulted, was spirited awny and ke])t from his friends and the public for several days. When at last found by his friends he was still sulfering from the effects of the drug. The physician who was called to attend liim pronounced the evidences of poisoning unmistakable. Tiie facts were fully investigated by the church of which he was a member, and it was unanimously voted that they called for no church censur(\ The reputable press, at the time, almost without ex(H^i)tion, expressed the same judgment. He had been drugged and abducted for a tri[)le purpost>, — j)artly robbery, ])artly blackmail, partly his overthrow as a temperance lecturer. The robbery was effected; the other two objects were not. 'J'his attempt to ruin i\Ir. Gough was somewliat more bold than any other which the drink trafiic has ever nuule ; but it is by no means the only one. Traps have been laid for hiui again and again. CJenerally he has been wise enough to see them, or his friends have been wise enough to forewarn him. His wife's ])ractical sagacity has saved liim more than once. On one occasion a bottle of liquor was sent to his room at a f INTRODUCTION. 41 ul give be him. iteadily It WilS I worse s about L\sci'ibe(l her and ■d to it. lapse is niseis of [1 a half las been claimed ) take a iccepted. ! state of iway and When Horn the to attend stakable. which he ley called the time, idgmeut. irpose, — I'dW as a tlu- other iiove bold It' ; but it (1 for hiiu loh to see yarn him. han once, room at a hotel by a hotel clerk. Fortuiiatel}-, he was in, followed the waiter down stairs, denounced the clerk to his face, and received an apology. Once in a hotel office he heard a toper declare that Mr. (Jough had drank with him ; he walked up to him, told him he lied, and compelled him to retract then and there. Once, early in his lecture exj)erience, a restaurant keeper of Ne\vl)uryport, — a church member, — circulated the report that Mr. (iough had come into his restaurant and called tor and drank a glass of strong beer. ^Ir. (louglTs friends got wind of the story, got authority from Mr. (Jough, went to the ])ious seller of beer, threatened him with j)r()se- cution, and extorted from him in writing a most abject retraction. Of course a hundred such stories have been circulated to one that has l)een retracted. We shall meet with more of this sort of business, and worse, by-and-by. Opposition from the liquor-sellers was by no means, how- ever, tlie only opposition which Mr. Gough had to encounter. That furnished by jealous competitors in the tem])erance work was almost as bitter and much harder to bear. Men of some local celebritv were envious of his o-i'n\vin<>- fame. Tliev ac- cused him of mercenary motives. 'J'lie average temperance lecturer received in tliose days for a lecture $2 or )J8 ; sometimes as much as -to. Mr. (iough's account-book shows on page after page in those earlier years his lecture fees as 'f5, 'S7, and $S. Wlien it rose to'.ii«10 com])etino' lec- turers began to remonstrate. One Washingtonian journal undertook to fix the maximum rate for such lectures for all lime to come. "Anything over five dollars," said this j.oli- tical economist, "is too much, and only tempts un])rincipled and selfish men to advocate temperance for the sake of the money." For some time Mr. Gongirs fees remained at .fflO and travelling expenses. The largest halls were filled at 25 cents a Jiead. Hall rent, fuel, and gas were not large items; the profits that somebody made can be easily es- timated. These profits went nominally, and generally really, into the treasury of some temperance society, for Mr. (Jough's lectures were uniformly at first under the auspices and for the benefit of local Washingtonian societies. Hut 42 I'LATFOUM KC'IIOES. I ' 1 llu'ie grew up a reasonable suspicion tliat it did not always all got into tlie treasury. Some of Mr. (Jongirs friends thonght, after lie had leclurt'd night after night in New Yoi'k city i'or VlO a night, paying his own hotel-bills, tliat he was not getting his share. They hired a hall, announced a " IxMielit " night, stood at the door themselvt's, took the money, paid all the expenses, and handed him over the snr- ])lus. It was over Jii^tJUO. Wiien the amount was known it tlid not allay the jeidonsy which Mr. (Jough's ])0]iularity had aroused. This jealousy was intensified by his kindly but fiank criticism of the Washingtonian metliods. Washingto- nianism was not a reliiiious movement : it made but small aeeonnt of (tod, Mible, or innnortalit v. The nu'ctiim's were not often opened with prayer; they wei'c often marred by eritieisms on the eiuirelies and the clergy, which would bettei' have been onutted. Somt! of its most active workers were Chris- tian men ; otliers were inlidels. Mr. (Jough gradually jjassed out of the hands of the inlidels into the hands of the Chris- tians ; out of the sehool-houses into the churelies. Attacked for tliis, he rei)lied with connnendable candor that temper- ance was only one virtue, and that no virtue can grow when .solitary. \'irtues grow in elum[is: they are gregarious. The onlv final renuMly for intemjierance is manhood, with all which manhood involves and implies. He told them frankly the truth. '"•In New England there is a t'lass of men who are a curse to the cause. Tiiis nuiy seem singular, but it is nevertheless true. Tliey are anti-slavery men, anti-hanging men, nmral reform men; but. l)ecausc the ministers of the Gospel do not think these reforms paramount to the (iospel of Christ, they withdraw from the church and style them- selves ' Coine-outers.' " Any one familiar with the history of New England from 1840 to 18(»0 will recognize the truth of this portraiture, but the men who were ])hotogi'a])hed took umbrage at it. They retorted by charging him with being a sectarian ; with using the temperance ])latform to promote an orthodox ])ropagandisui. 'J'liey said that lie declared that the end of the (h'iid< was eternal death. They proved his sectarian spirit by citing the fact that orthodox people ap- "ifj I < INTUODUCTIOX. 43 111 ways tVieuds in New Us, that nounciMl ook the llif snr- uowu it iiity liiul idly l)ul isliiiiu'to- ut small \vcri' not u'iticisms ter have n'e Cliiis- ly ])asscd he Ciiris- Attacked t teinper- ow when us. Tiio with all 1 tVaiikly men who hut it is i-haiigiug I's of the (i()sj)el vie them- e history the truth )hed took li beinjj,- a promote ar(!d that roved his eople ap- n in ])rovetl his course and lloeked to liear him. One journal ciled in triumphal (kMuoiistratiou a parai;rapli I'roni the New York "'Kvanyelist,"' sayiu,t>' that "Mr. (u)ni;li intimately eon- eels tlie temiieranee ret'ormatiou with man's l-VrKKNAL terests, and wherever he goes greatly eommends himself to I he rr/ii/ioiix cutninKin'fi/."' The unseetarian editor put Eternal in eajiitals and the religious eonniiunity in italics, as we have Oxford and Cambridge professor gives the movement a dignity in literary circles; more than (Uie high dignitary gives it character in the church. Tlie clergy have organized 'IMie Church of l'>ngland Temperance Society. This was all unknown in 185:]. The temi)erance movement in 1853 in iMigland might be justly characterized as t'hristianity was characterized by Paul in the first cen- tury; not many wise men after tlie flesh, not many mighty, not many noble were called. It was essentially a middle- class movement. The enthusiasm Avas not always tempered If 46 I'l.ATKOIJ.M KCIIOES. { I M with (liscivtidii imi' ^'iiidcd hy j^itod lusti'. Tlu' coiiiing of the orator iVoiii AiiioruM had hiM.'ii herahU'd far and near. Exeter Ilall, L(iii(h)ii, was hireil for a grand (loinoiistrath)ii. The t^'alleries were eovered with a clotli (MiiUlazoned witli the lecfend "The I.on(h)ii Teniperaiu-e League." Two i)ersoiis werc^ stationed on I'ither si(h' of the; |)hitforni to wave, one the Anieriean, tiu' other tlie iJritish Ihig, as Mr. Gough entered. An extraordinary ode was prepared for the oceasion, jirinted, and (hstrihnted through tiie liall to he sung. A choir of live liun(h'ed vocalists iiad bei'ii gathered to sing it. 'I'lie tirst stanza indicates the character at onee of the audience and the enthusiasm. TiiK tk.mim:i;an('E invito. All!. — Sir till' ('iiiuinrvhiij Hero ('(iiiiix! Soc, tlic Tfiiipcriinco Iloro comosl Sound llip truiniM'ls, Ix'ut tlic ilriiins! Iii'inl till' air, in lapliin' .siiii; Willi licarl ami voire lo wclconic liiiii! Mr. (lougli foitunately got a glimpse of tlie programme in the committee room, lie protested against the perform- ance. There were enough seiisihle men on tlu^ iilatform to second the protest. The odi' was not sung. But one can readily imagine the lhts, he had achieved the orator's always most diflicult and most ])erilous feat. The rest of Ins victory was easy. How com- l)lete that victory was is best indicated by an extract from the " J}ritish Banner " of the next dav. The extract is long. Hut it affords an admirable ])^n and ink portrait of the great orator on one of the most trying occasions of liis life. We therefore make no apijlogy for reproducing it, and no attempt to condense it : — Mr. Goii;,'li is a wcll-adjustoil mixtnro of the poot. orator, and draiiialist — in fact, an Knglish (iavazzi. (Jougli is. in all respects, in stature, in voice, ansl in force of manner on a scale considerably lower than the jireat Italian orator. Gavazzi is more grand, more tragic, more thoroughly Italian, but much less adapted to an English auditory. Fii their natural attrll)utes, how- ever, they have nuich in common. If (iavazzi possesses more power, Gougli has more i)athos. This is the main difference, the chief distinction, and here 48 n, KTl'OK'M KCllOFS. tlio iliiTiMvivN' i.i iu favor of (""lOuah. (ioiiL;li cxi'i'ls (;a\a//.i in padios fur iii(>ro th.m (Jiivaz/i oxools (;ou;;li iu juiwcr. Tlirii. (m)u.;;1i is more )iioilci-ato iu lii.i tlu-alrivMl diiplay.^. li»iiainlsiiuirh luoio, ami ac-i-i mucli less ; wliiloas to fon-o im.l jjv'iu'ral odVot, ho Is, of coiiim', oh IiIljIi vaiitajjo v^roiiiitl, spoakiiii; hU ii.iiiv(< toii;:iio aiul aiiu>n:; lii* ft llow-coiiiilivim'n. llo is in tliis ivsju'ol in Jill. :1. 111. 1 wliat (i.iva/.,-.i woiil.l lu' in Italy. Holli liiul. ami liml to an oijual I'Nu'iil, llu'ir aocoiiiil in llii>ir liislrionii' iiiiinnor. 'I'lu" alocm'o of uiiniiiigatoil Vi'lii'iiifiu't' is iii^lily fa\oiali|i> to tin* t'l-oiioiuy of sIii'1il:i1i. aiiil a larijo ini'a>iiri' of rcposo iTvaili's the whole ('NhiMdou. Ko.liiii^ liinisclf. In- gives ri'.--l to Ills aiiilit'iuv', ami lieiu'i' lioih reniain uiiwi'arie.l till ili(> cml. Mr. (ioiiirh ::.i\i' no si^iis of faiii;iio last ni.L;lil. \l the clo^.' of nearlv an hour and liM'ly niiiuiles. he seeme.l (iiiiii> as fresh a* wlu-n he h.u'an, ami (juile fapable of eonliniiiiii; till iiiiiliiiL;lil, eoek-erow iiiL,', or luoiiiiiiL: ! No heal fven was aiipaieiit to ns ; i>ersiiii;Uion was onl of the iniesiion ; the haml- kerehief was tiever. thai we olis<'rve,l, oiu'e in ieniii>ilion lhroii,i;hor' the wiiole of his snrpiisin^ disjilay. lie reseinhle.! a chiinn t>f lliu'hlaml headier, uiuU'i-tlie hla/.e of a hiiniinu sun— as dry as jiowder ! ll is as natural to him to si>eak — and tlial on a .seale to he heard hy the laiijtest andilory — as lohrealhe. It ceases now to W a matter of astonishnienl thai he makes so lillle of stand- in:; tip to speak every niaht in siii'eession. for weeks toijelher. and tra'.ellim; for that purpose one or luoii' luimlreds of miles liy day I 'I'lu'ri- is ,in iilliM' ahvenee of all mental peitiuhation ; hefore he t'omnienees there seems no idea of hh beiiij; al>(>iit to di) an\ (hill;.; a! all eNlraonlinary. or, when he has liiii^he.l, iliit anydiiiii;: e\t r.ior.linary lia-. Iii'i 1 pertonued. It m'iiiw to In' as intieh a matter of eoiiise .is w.iIIuiil; or riinnim;. •.itliiiL.' dow n orii>inii iil>. His self-iommand is perleei. and hence his control o\ i r an asseiiildy is cum- iiroiiiiil liini ll imp< pleli>. (io\i'rniii,i,' himself, lie ea--dy ,i;o\ cms all ^ihlo for any man to have l>een more thoroiiL;lil\ at lioiii'' than In' was last liiirht. Like a wellliicd man, (Miee on his feel, there was the ah>ence alike »)f haslifiilii d 111(1 iniiiiiilcnce. Tlu' aildre>s was entirely withont order of any sort — nay. for this the assemhly was prepared al the tMilset liy the inliniation that In' had never w ritteli, and iie\er iircmedilated a speech in his life I l.asi ni^hi die addrt-ss was a s'.ict'i'ssion of piclnri deli\ered in a manner the most natural, and heiici al OH'' tinii', fcclini; was in Ih iiilaiii'y, and, at another, power. Ilis<;ifts of iniiiiiery si'cmed ;;reat ; lliis perilous, (huii'^h valuable faculty, however, was but spariimly cNcrciseil. ll is oiilv as the li^lilnini;, iu a siniile tl.ish. ilhiminin?: all and i;one, making \ray for the rollinu; peal ami the fallim; torrent, 'riiroimhoni the whole of last niulit li ssed himself to the a much wiser course for a liisl ap)iearani fancy and to the heart. We cannot doubt, however, that Mr. (ioii.nh is in a V<'ry hiiih deiircc capable of dcalim; with priiii'iplcs and of j;rapi)liu^: with an adversary by way of ari:iinienl, but he adopted a ditVercnl. and. as we ihiuk. The mode of address is iiui' of which maukinil will lit". er lire till human nature bci'omi's di\csii'd of its in liereni |>ro]ierties. lie recited a v 'lies of sirikinuly )>erliiicnl facts, all of which 111" set in beaulifnl pii'turcs. Nodiim; could c\< d theiinily of tlii- hupnMsion. while nothini; could be more multifarious tlciu the ineaiis employed to elTecl it. It was a sjiecies of mc.rlar liriui;. in which old nails, broken bottles, chips of iron, and bits of metal, toueth dih balls of lead — INTKODl'i IION. »•) niiYlliiii.u. t'M'rylliinj; parlakiiii; of iln' n:\iiui' of ;» iiiis^ilo - was avail.-iMo. 'riuM"«)iiilH)iiiiil mass was sliowi-roil forili wiih ri'sisili-ss iniulil ami ixnvcrfiil cxoculion. Tlu' tircal iili-a, «liirli was uii\>i'rmost all llic i'\i'iiinu'. was tli(< ovils of (liinkiiiL; ; and. iiiulir a ili'cp I'onviilion of llial liuili, i'\i'ry man nmsl liavo left llio assi-niMy. rill" I'oni'lnsion lo wliicli we ha\ c lonn'. ihrn, is iIki! lln' nwrils nf Mr. » Jonuli have lit'iMi l>y no means ovi'r i-.itcil. In l'.ii;:lancl hi' wouM taUi' a siani! (|nili' ;\s liiiih as lu< lias laki'n in tin' I nil oil Stall's. TIiiti' is no lia/aril now in say in'^that tlu'i'i' w ill lii> no ili^apiioinl ni^'iit . lie will nowlii'ii' f.iil lo i'i|iial. if noi lo sin'iiass. cNju'rlat ion ; anil his irinnijih will, anionu I'.nulishini'n, l>i' all 111 lion' i'om)il<'li' from llic ulliT alisfncc of all iifi'ti'iision. His air inaUi's inomisi' of ii.'ihinL; : ainl hcni'i' ,ill that is i;i\('n is so miirh ahovi' I ho oontrail. it is imiiossihli' III i-oni'i'ivi' of anylhin.i; mori' cnliroly froo frmu ciniiiririsni. l'"iom liisi lo last, it is natiiii' .iclini: in oiu' of hoi- faxorilo sons. Oialorioally lonsiili'ii'il. 111' is ni'vcr at fanll. Wliilo Iho vooaMi' |iroiinni'ialion. with soaii'ily an oNii'i'lion. is ]i('rfi'i'l. ihi' cloiiit ioii.iry rlciiii'iit is in cm'iv way worihy of it. Ili' is wholly fn'o. on tin- ono haml, from lioaxy monotony. ;inil. on tho othor. from rantiiiL', ili'i'lamatioii, iMopt'ily so oallcil. 'I'lu'ii' is no inonihiiiL;— no sliltoil shontiiiL;. His wholi' spcakin;: was omini'iitly Inu': ilii'ii' is nothiiiL,' falsi' liihrr in tono or inlli'i't ion ; anil the samo romark aiiplii's to I'liijihasis. All is triilli ; Iho nsiiH is nmli'vialin,!; jili-asiin' ami ii resist ililc impn'ssion. His air is that of a man who luni'r ihoiiLiht li\i' niinnti's on ilio snhji'i't of jiiiMii' siioakiiiL;: Imt who sin loiiili'is himsi'jf to iho !;iiiilaiii'i' of his Lji'iiins. while ho ofltiinos snatohos a i^raoo hoyouil llio roaoli . Wo oannot oloso wiihont acl\ oil iivj; to tho hiiihosi attrilMilo of his siM-akin;:: — it is porvailoil hy a spiiit of iolii:ion. Not a wonl osoajios him whii'h is ohjoi'lionahlo on thai sooio. Oihor Ihiii'^s hoiii'^ oun.il. this no\or fails to lift a s|ii'akor far ahovo his follows. In this ii'spoii. ho is a iiatlom lo tomiioranoo aiUoiatos. llo did not, lo lio siiro, proaoh ( hrisiianit \ ; that was not his hnsinoss ; hut tho wliolo of his onohant inii olTiisioii was in liaiinony with its doi'lrincs. always hroatliini; its sjiiril. and oooasioiially pay- iiii it a natural and sjraoi'ful Irihnit \t tho oloso, in partionlar. that was slionL;ly maikod, llo tlioro slatod that tho toinporani'o ('aiisc was llioolV spriiiLi of tho < 'hvislian I'hnroh. addiiii; thai w haiovor was snoli was in its own iiatiiro iinmorlal, and llionoo prodiotiiii; tho nliimati" Irinmph of iho oauso in whii'h ho w,is oniharkod. 'I'lic or;\l(>ii(';il xictorv lit I'lxcl ('!■ II. !lt OIU'I' th. proliiil(? to, niitl llit> |U'('parii(i(»ii lor. ,\ coiilininm.'^ yictniv liivouojliout Knirlnnd ;\ii(l Scntlaiul. We shall inal sldiv i»l (hi' siirrrssinii of ovatiuiis which oxtoiuled IVdih LoikIom lo I'Minhiuoh ; and iVoiii .\iioii.sf, iSo;!, to Autxiist, JSo;"). We donht whcthrr niodciii hislorv records Jiiiv raso of an (M'atoncal 1riinii|ih iiiorc n>ntiiiiiou.s and iiinrc extraordinary. Whitlichl hail llu' many-sided snhjocl of I . ; ( ■ ! 1 ■: ! I ) I ,; ! ! I 50 TLATFOmr ICCIIOES. religion ; Mr. Gougli but tlie niu^ tlionie of tein])erancc. Mr. Uoechor's raiiioiis English speeches during the civil war are un})avalleleil in the histoiv of oratory; hut these were hut six, -while Mr. (iongh spoke almost continuously for two years. Most of his addresses were given under the auspices of the local temperance societies, and these generally made arrangements for the signing of the pledge at the close of every address. The pledge was of a simple and comijrehensive character: the signer promised to ahstain from all intoxicating liquors. and to^ exert all his intluenee against drinking customs and tlie drink traflic. How he should do this was left wholly to his own conscience. The epoch of open and violent opposi- tion had nearly ])assed. The only place, we helieve, where Mr. (iongh suffered any serious opposition was at Oxford ; and there the interruption, though seripresentative of the licpKU" interest, and send him upon the ])latform for a fair debate, each speaker taking ten iiiinuttis, the audience appreciated the liit, if not the ])oint; no advocate of the drink could be found, and Mr. Gough was allowed to finish his s))eeeh without nuich I'urlher interrup- tion. We do not mean to say that all the print'iples incul- cated by so-called temperance reformers are undi'niable and midisputable. W(^ do not even mean to say that all the lirineiples laid down by Mr. (tough are so. The reader will lind his jjrineiples and the icasons for tliem giviMi by Mr. (lough himself in the following ])ages; they need neither delinition nor defem-e from us. Hut we do mean to say that 4 52 I'LATFOKil ECHOES. i.< ' i 'II I'H, It t /' f •; U : I the diiiiking customs of society as they liave existed, and .still to a coiisideraMe extent exist, and the drinking trailic as it is actually carried on, are without either defence or de- fender. We think, too, that all ])ersons experienced in public speaking will agree with us that indifference is a more dilli- cult foe to convert than open enmity, aiid that it is always easier to debate a somewhat doubtful cause than to i)resent the claims of one about which there is lu) doubt. We Jiardly know what Christian ministers would do for sermons if they could not occasionally attack infidel opinions or defend Christianity from inlidel attacks. It is not the least evi- dence of Mr. Gjugh's oratorical power that he has been able iV)r over foi'ty years to argue for temperance, and against the drinking customs of society and tlie drink Iraflic, without falling into the folly of some c»f his conlem])oraries and de- bating with other temperance woi'kcrs doubtful questions as to ways and means. Mr. (longh returned liome in August, 1853, after an absence of two years. He had delivered over f(Uir hundretl lectures. There is no record, so far as we know, of the number of pledges which he had taken. Since he fn'st began his temperance addresses in 1842 a great change had taken place, not oidy in tem[)ei'ance sentiment, but also in temperance methods. A new party had arisen, dissatisfied Avith tlie slow metliods of moral suasion. Moral suasion depends on persuading each individnal to give up the drink; the new ]>arty proposed to keep the drink away from all indiviiluals. The necessity of a change had been forced upon tem])erance reformers ])y bitter exi)erience. Thousands of men had signed the pledge oidy to yield to the iulluence of old cronies and the attractions of the bar-room, and return to drink again. The argument for the change was a simple one. The driidc trailic is a social and political wrong; tliere- fore it should be i)rohibited. The work of tlie tem])erance reformers had i»repared the way. The indignation of the country had l^cen aroused against the traflic ; and not a few who were not themselves, on principle, total abstainers, were willing to join in a nK.vement to close the bar-rooms. I'ro- hibition had been adojjted in Maine, Massacliusetts, Rliode INTRODrCT[ON. 53 I, aiul allic as or de- public re (li Hi- ill ways present hardly if tliey defend list evi- ?en able inst the wilhont and de- ^tions as An;4nst, ved over ir as we ^ a great itinient, arisen, Moral •e up Ibc iiy from forced musands iiillnence id return simple 2; there- luperancc in of the not a few icrs, were ns. I'n'- ts, Ilbode Island, Connecticut, Vermont, New Hampshire, New York. The temperance campaign had been converted from a moral to a political campaign. Tlie new movement had extended from America to (Ireat Britain. TJie temi)erance workers there organized ui two wings; the one working on the public conscience and ])nl)lic opinion, by pamphlets and addresses, the other for such legal clianges as would eventually bring- about the total suj)pression of the liipior trallic bylaw. Tiie first were organized in the "National and Scottish TemiJer- ancc f^eague;"' the second in the " I'nited Kingdom Alliance." The National and Scottish Teuii)erance League, organized in 1850, but growing out of the Ijondon Temperance League, organized in 1851, was the result of a union of several tem- ]ierance societies which had previously done good work in temperance agitation by moral methods ; the Alliance, organ- ized at iNLuichester in 1853, announced from its birth its purpose "to promote the total and immediate legislative sup- pression of the traffic in all intoxicating liqiuirs as beverages." We do not propose to iirgue here the (|uesliou of ju'ohibi- tion. We do propose to state wliat we suppose to be the ]irinci[)les which must be a]>plied in determining that ques- tion. We have no doubt of the right of the community to l»rohibit tlie liquor trallic. It has a right to do whatever is necessary for its own self-protection. No ])rivato property riglit is superior to the general right of the community to self-protection. France prohibits the im])ortation of all American ))ork, because some American jxirk lias trichiiuc. 'J'lie United States [)revents the im])ortatioii of l"'gy])tian rags because the cholera is raging in l\gypt and the rags may be infected. IJy the same riglit the community may prohibit the importation, sale, and manufacture of alcoholic liquors, the general evils from which to the community far exceed those threatened by either trichiiiio or cholera. The one evil is remote, the otiier near; the one hypothetical, the other certain; the one relatively small, the other gigantic in its proportions, riie right to regulate cannot be defended without conceding tlie right to prohibit. If tlie State has a right to prohibit tlie sale to minors, because of tlic evils which r 54 PLATFOH.M ECHOES. I li^ •i i I ! '!■ 1 >i i. '■'■'' ; I' ! \h I it 1 [ I, ; s\i(;li sale pi'uducos, it luis u riglit to pvuhibit tlie .sale to adults because of the greater evils which that sale produces. If it may proliibit the sale on Sundays, it nniy prohibit the sale on week-days. II' it may i)r()hibit tlie sale, except by a few specially licensed venders, it may prohibit the sale excei)t by a few specially appointed agents. The right of ])rohibition is established by a hundred analogies and j)reccdi'nts. It is undisputable. But right is one thing and power is another. This distinc- tion which Burke has so admirably illustrated, has been often lost sight of in legislation. A mere majority may have the right, but it has not the })ower, to prohibit the li(|Uor trallie in any free community. It can undoubtedly i)ut a law on the statute book or a clause in the constitution ; but this is not enongii. Thei'e are some things which a mere majority can do; there are other things which it is jjowerless to do. It can determine on new jxilicies; it cannot make new crimes. A law prohibiting any act as criminal has no greater })ower in a free community country than the ]iublie conscience of the oonnuunity. In the reign of dharles II., when adultery was a jest in society and on the stage, a law ])rohibiting adul- tery would have been valueless. In Utah a law prohibiting polygamy is of no effect, even with the Fnited States gov- ernment and United States judges to enforce it. A single jioliceman can ]nit to flight a crowd of roughs; because the roughs know tiiat he has behind him, invisil)le, the entire force of the moral portion of the conununity. But he is powerless to close a liquor saloon, if the saloon keei)er knows that the communit}' is eveidy divided on the question whether liis selling is a crime or not. In such a divided state of pub- lic sentiment the law ])ecomes a dead letter. Grand juries will not indict; district attorneys will not prosecute; petit juries will Jiot convict; judges will not sentence; and governors will pardon. To make any criminal law effective, the conscience of the vast nnijftrily of the community must sanction it. Tlie conscience of the vast majoiity has not yet been educated to the point of regarding the li(|Uor traffic as a crime. It is so regarded by only a small majority even in INTKODUCTION. 55 the most teinperate States, witli |iuilia[)s the single exception of Maine; iu most of tlie States not even a small majority so regard it. A t'liange in tlit; pnblic conscience must precede any effectual ciiange in the j)ul)lic law. We believe tliat tlicse principles are not only sound biit self-evident. Wo sliall leave our I'caders to asciertain for themselves Mr. (jough's position on this matter from his own words in the pages of this volume ; but this we understand to be substantially liis position. From the very earliest he had clainu'd that the li([Uor trailic had no moral I'igiit to exist. Ills motto had been — to quote his own W(»rds — "kindness, sym[)athy, and persuasion for the victim, for tlie tempter, law." His aim had been — we quote his own words again — "not only [)rohibition, but annihilation." I>ut he had never been an active prohibitionist. Ills critics afterward rohibition." If l)y this they meant that 3ie had never been an enthusiastic laborer in the cause of innnediate law reform, the statement is undoubtedly correct. He had been an enthusiast in the work of changing j)ublie sentiment. He had no fear but that when public sentiment was made right the rectifying of the law would follow. It was dciclared of him that he had even said, "Do not ex])ect [)roliibition until you have four fifths of the comnumity on your side." Whether Mr. Ciotigh ever did say this we do not know. It was attributed to him by an assailant; and anything attri- buted to Inm by an assailant is presumably false. On the (ithcr hand Mr. (iough is a sensible man and this is a very sensible I'emark. We have but one criticism io make upon it. We doubt whether a majority of four fifths is ([uite enough to ensure the success of a [)rohibition j)olicy. We should ourselves be inclined to call tor a larger majority. Mr. (lough, returning to the United States at almost the. very time that one of the foremost advocates of j)rohibition was setting sail for Kiigland, found in New England the jtrohibition policy ado{)ted on the statute l)ooks and disre- garded iu execution. The jioliey which ruled in the Eastern States was tlu' policy of tlu; voter who sarcastically renuu'ked 56 PLATFORM ECHOES. \i k ■■I I It, Ml: i: .tl' that he was '"in favor ul' tlie Maine law aii expectation of laboring with you, as far as health and strenglh will permit for the next three years. . . . I see that Xeal Dow is to be in England. I am glad. You will all like him; he is a noble man, a faithful worker. Ho can tell better than any other man the state of the Maine law movement here, and the cause of the uni- versal failure of the law to produce tlie desired results. Mr. (iough has been severely criticised for writing this letter. We are unable to see the justice of the criticism. Parties were divided in England, as in America, on the ques- tion whether the chief work of the temperance reformers should be moral or legal ; whether they should work on public opinion or on Parliament. This was an important question. There was every reason why l\Ir. Gougli should give to liis friends in England the benefit of American ex- perience. There was al)Solutely no reason why ho should not. The recipient of the letter has also been severely criti- INTUODUCTIOy 57 cised for giving it to tbo public. It is certainly true, as a general thing, that private letters should not be published. Hut it is a rule which has nuiny exceptions. The ex[)ressiou of opinion by a well-infornied temperance reformer respect- ing the actual results of a new temperance experiment would seem to constitute such an exce[)ti()n. There was nothing in the paragraph published of a personal nature; nothing which Mr. Gt)ugh might not have said in public ; nothing which he did not afterwards say; nothing of a secret or conlidential nature. IJut the publication of this innocent letter produced a most tremendous excitement in temperance circles in (ireat liritain. One cannot read the pages on ]);iges of newspaper correspondence to which it gave rise without a feeling of commingled astonishment and amusement that so small a spark should have kindled so great a lire. Neal Dow was just arriving in (Jreat IJritain when this letter was given to the public. The "Temperance Alliance" was just inangu- laling a political tem[)erance campaign, with him for the chief speaker. They chose to regard this letter as a direct assault on tiiem and their methods. They declared that it "was not worthy of notice," and then ransacked America with letters and circulars to disprove it. They declared of Mr. Gough that "ii[)on prohibition he was not and never was supposed to be an enthusiast;" that his statement was "entirely untrue, as a very little inquiry would have led Mr. Gough to know;" "that no one even now really believes the statement that Mr. Gough has made; for, fortunately, it is so mon- strously absurd that no one can believe it, even when they try to make others swallow the camel ; " " that it must have been written by an individual who, at the time of writing, did not luiderstand what he was sayinq;." Tbe excuses made tor Mr. Gough by his critics were more aggravating than their accusations; their charity was harder to bear than their malice. One attributed it to his "dramatic imagination;" another remarked that he was not an authority on questions of fact; a third, that he probably wrote it "in a lit of un- reasonable depression ; " a fourth, that it ought to be excused 58 I'LATFOUM ECHOES. H\ I I ) i 1^- it I' !' because it was in ii private letter not intended for publica- tion. The "Glasgow C'onnnouwealtli," however, suri)assed all the rest in the kindness of its explanation: "All his friends lau)W that he is sid)jeet to fits of severe mental de[)ression ; in short, he has not so fully recovered from the effect of stimulants as to escape from the i)eculiar malady conunonly called the 'blues.'" In the midst of this excite- ment Mr. Gough arrived in Liverj)ool to enter on a second temperance campaign which had been arranged for before his departure for America the year before. We do not need to repeat here the evidences adduced by him in suj)[»()rt of hit:; statement, nor that furnished by his oi)})oneuts in refutation of it. It was made very clear that there was a very decided diffeieuce of opiidon in the rniled States respecting the eflicacy of prohibition and the i)erniaiience of the political victories already won. Letters were i)ublished by Mr. Gough from leading ministers, lawyers, senators, and representa- tives, tem[»erance workers, prosecuting attorneys, and oni^ governor, fully sustaining his declaration. The "blues" ai)i)eared to be epidemic in New England. Letters were published of equal nund)er, if not of equal weight, upon the other side. It is needless now, thirty years after, to compare the testimony of these witnesses. History has (.ietermined the qucsti(ui on which they dilfered. Prohibitory laws were enacted in Maine, Vermont, New Hamj)shire, Rhode Island, Coiniecticut, and New York. Pro- hibition is im longer maintained in any of these States, except iu Maine and Vermont. The State of Maine has but one city of more than twenty thousand inhabitants; the State of Vermont, none. In the former State the pre- liminary work of education, before the prohibitory statute was adopted, was thoroughly done by sowing the State with temperance literature froni the New Hampshire border to tlu; Aroostook. Prohibition prohibits in Maine because i)id)lic sentiment regards the drink traflic as a public curse. Both parlies sustain it. The conditions which Mr. Gough de- mands have been secured. Four fifths of the conununity condemn the liquor trafhe. But even in Maine it is doubt- INTRODUCTION. 59 I'ul whether proliihitiou hus l)eeii truly successful ; while outside of Miiiue uucl V^ermout it has been genenilly .ibaii- (loned. It has given place in the olhei- New England States to local (jplion. 'I'here is no present prospect of its revival in New York State. It is still an experiment in Kansas; it lias received poi)ular a[)[)roval in Iowa, but has not yet been put upon trial; it has coniinanded a large vote in Ohio, but the vote is a long way from the " four lifths" which give pro- hibition its moral power in Maine. Prohibition may be the ultimate form whiidi rK[Uor legislation will assume in this country. That is a question on which oianioiis may well differ; and it is on(! not necessary for us U) discuss here. We are writing history, not [)liilosophy : and as matter of Jiistory there can be no (]uestion, in the light of all that has occurred since ISoT, that the temperance cause was entering at that time [)olitically upon a j)i'ri(jd of reaction and de[)res- sion, anil that the Maine law had not jiroved a success, and was not likely to prove a success until an enormous amount of preliminary agitation and education had l)een iirst done. Even if history had |»roved Mr. (iough mistaken, his mis- take would have been poor justilication i'or [lersonal abuse. i>ut to a perfect storm of abuse he found himself subjected on his (irst landing in Liver]»ool. All the slanders in Ameri(;a- were showci's compared with the steady and per- sistent deluge of attack poured ni)on him. Me met a number of his friends at a public breakfast on his arrival, and in a speech of considerable length, and of a nnich more philo- sophical cast than is customary with him. he defined his position. He repudiated with considerable vigor the ai)olo- gies which had been made for him. The fact that his letter was a private letter not intended for publication he refused to accept as a shield. " If a man." said he, "is a liar to his friend, he is a liar to the i)ublic." He declared himself a believer in the principles of ])rolubition. He i)aid a hand- some tribute to "our noble friend and coadjutor, Neal Dow." He read a number of letters from distinguished temperance men from various parts of the United States testifying to tlie facts as he had portrayed them in his letter. He declared '1 5| 'J 'I GO PLATFOUM ECHOES. : I i I il ; ! t ' I it I i ■ 8' that, since liis cliiinictcr Imd been iiiiimgned, liis character imist l)c justilietl. His iVieuds, by resolutiuus iinauiinously passed, fully and iieartily vindicated him. With this he nro- }»osetl to leave the (question aiul go on with his \voik. Hut th(M'e were those who were determined that it should not be left; and since neither open argument nor puljlie abuse could efl'ace the imi)ression which Mr. (iough had i)rodueed, or imi)air his inlluence, they set themselves to do it by pri- vate slander. Tiie leader in this attempt was Dr. F. K. Lees, a representative, perhaps the most prominent rei)resentative, of the rival temperance society, the " Uiuted Kingdom Al- lianc(\'" Of all the inlluenees which tlemoralize and destroy charac- ter, we are inclined to regard })artisanship as- the most subtle and therefore the most dangerous. It corrupts the best luitures ; it enlists the higher virtues on the side of falsehood and inhumanity; it perverts courage into cruelty, serves truth with falsehcjod, makes conscience justify wrong-doing, gilds shame with a false homn'. It is s[)ecious, insinuating, subtle, undermining. The partisan begins by identifying himself with his party and his cause ; he ends by identifying" liis party and his cause with the cause of universal virtue and goodness. Jle makes it the staiuhird by wliich to judge all men. Whoever supports his cause is a saint; wlioever opiioses it is a sinner. lie makes it the standard by which he judges all conduct. Whatever promotes his cause is right ; whatever impedes it is wrong. No one of liis adherents is to be censured ; no act of his opponents is free from the sus- picion of an evil motive and the fear of an evil result. The Jewish partisan in the time of Christ looked on with approv- ing conscience while the mob stoned Stephen. The Romait Catholic partisan in the sixteenth century applauded the rack of the Iiuiuisition in Spain; the sword of Alva in the Netherlands ; the massacre of St. Bartholomew in France. It is only in the light of these historic illustrations that we are able to understand the course of Dr. F. R. Lees. He was a temperance and a ])r(ihil)ition partisan. In the manifold discussions provoked by Mr. Gougirs I IS INTKOUrcTION. Gl IS is to |e sus- Thc hprov- loniivu k1 the 111 the liauce. lilt wo He )ugirs letter, two articles wliicli relleetecl on a friend of Dr. Lees, hy the iiiiiiio of I'ctcr Sinclair, iii)|ieiirecl, one in the " Con- gregatioiialist "' of Boston, the oilier in the "Edinburgh News." Mr. Goiigh had nothing more to do with the wilting of either of these articles than with tiie writing of the New Testanu'iit. Mat Mr. (Joiigh was from Massachusetts and the *' C'ongrcgationalist " was published in Massachusetts; Mr. (loiigli was in Scotland, and the "Edinburgh News" was published in Scotland. In the judgment of a inirtisan this evideiiee was (j^iiite suflicient to justify the conclusion that he insjiii-ed both the articles. Dr. Lees determined that they should be withdrawn. He proceeded to the acc()m[)lish- ment of his [)ur[)ose by writing a letter to a friend of ^Ir. (Joiigh, deiiiaiidiug their instant withdrawal under })enalty of Mr. (lough's eX[)osure. " Your frieml St. l>artlioluniew,'' he saitl, "has often boon seen mircotically and helplessly in- toxicated. 1 should have announced that fact before, of which I have distinct [)rool'; but, out of I'ear of injuring the cause, and out of pity for the saint himself, I forbore, on recei|)t of his aiiology. ... If Mr. Dexter is not instructed to recall his article anil apologize for it, and to make amends to poor Sinclair, my next letter to the States shall contain all the inforinatidii 1 possess anent St. liartholoiiiew himself, whom I believe to be as rank a hypocrite and as wretched a man as breathes in the (pieen's dominions." When a man makes a threat of this kind to extort money it is called black- mail ; when it is made to extort {lersonal inlluence there is no recognized name for it. This letter was followed by others in the same line ; if possible more explicit both in their declarations and in their threats. The writer declared that th(! saint had been often intoxicated with druo-s — once insensibly so — in the streets of Londo-.i, many times help- lessly so in (ilasgow; that there were many witnesses to the facts ; that he knew a score of persons who had seen him intoxicated : that two of the occasions wtve within his own certain knowledge; and he challenged Mr. Gougli to bring the matter before a jury of twelve Englishmen, and pledged liimself, "on the honor of a gentleman and the faith of a i !hl ;l 62 PLATFORM ECllOKS. ('Iiristi;iii. lo t'liniisli iniiucs and addufc I'iiviIkt t'vidriici- of wliat 1 liavr iMiw asserti'd."" Siuiilai' IclU-is were written t(» otlieis ill Kiit;iaiid. A secret siispiuiidi was lliiis set ullual ill the air. There was hut one way lo iiifct it; .Mr. (idiiuli took that way. He aeeei)ted Dr. J^^es's ehalleii«;(\ sucil him I'or lihel. and hroii'>iit him hel'ore the twelve Kii<;iishmeii of cliaraeter to make j^ood his assertions. Dr. Let's had (h'clared the I'aets to he within his own knowh'do'e ; lie had deelared that he ••oiild furnish the names of a seore ol witnesses cognizant of th;'ni ; he had invited the test. The case eame on for trial. The juihlie interest was jj^reat. Mr. (Joiiti'li's foiinsel o[>ened tlu' itase. stated tlie facts, and called •Mr. (ionuh to |l;(» into the w itness hox. Mr. ( Jou^li thus at the outset offered himself to the o]-.)iosiiin' counsel I'nr a searching" cro.st5-exaniinatioii into his whole lii'e. It was a simple tliini;- to do if the ehai'Lji'S \\v\r wholly false; it would have heen a disastrous thini;' to do if there had heen any color of truth in them, any L;idund evi'ii for a reasoiiahh' sus|iit'ioii of their truth. .Mr. (Joiii^h carried with liiiii into the witness hox a little hand-lia;4'. lie swore positively that since lS-ir> never liad wine, spirits, or any fermented liipior tiuielied Jiis lips ; that he had never eaten o[iium. l)oie.;lit (ppiiim. possessed opium : tiiat he liad nevi'r toin-hed m owned laudanum, exeepl on that one occasion hefoir his reformation, when Ik- stoppetl on the cdj^'e of suicide; that the whole story, in all its })arts, was an ahsoluti- fahiication : that he had nothini; to do, directly or indirectly, with the piililicatioii of either of the two articles in the "■ C'oiij^regatioiialist " and in the '"1011111- luirgli News."" 'J'licn. in answer to a (piestiou from liis counsel, lie opened iiis haiidd)ai,f and took out a little inenioiandum-book. It was (Uie of several. It then ap[;eared that ever since the commencement of his lecturiiii,' experi- ences he lia lias taken place in the meth- ods of temperance reformat imi. No special moral reform agitation can l)e kept alive tor an indelinite peiiod. The public weary of it. They will not go to iiear repeated for the fortieth time arguments whose eonclusions they antiei]»ate l)cfore they enter the hall, or experiences j)ortrayed with which lectures and literature iiave already made them fa- miliar. 'JY'mperanee meetings and temperance lectures are no longer poj)ular. liut the practice of total abstinence is more connnon in England and not less common in the I'nited States than it was twenty years ago. Dean Staidey bivs borne striking testimony to the diminution of drinking habits in the best society in ICngland. The wine bri'akfasts which formed so striking a feature of "Tom IJrown at ()xf(»rd" are now almost unknown at the ['niversities. In societv. the i i 1 1 i l\ r,4 PLATFOIIM ECHOES. ladies leave the gentlemen over their wine at the elose of tlie dinner; but ^\ hen the gentlemen join the hidies in the parlor they arc none tlie worse for their wine. In the United States there may be more room to question wliether driiddng hal)its are decreasing or no, because inimigratit)n counteracts the temperance work, and brings eveiy decade a new j)0])ulation to be converted. lUit the statistics indicate that tlie retail trade in li(pi()r does not keep pace with the population. 'J'he I'nited States government levies a tax of '^'Id a year on all retail liquor dealers, including druggists. Ver}^ few escape the payment of this tax; the jienalty is heavy and the tax is light. The ligures at the I'liited States Treasury Dejiartment in Washington show an absolute decrease in the number of the dealers: ten years ago there were 200,(J7t) retailers; now there are lur),8(llt. These include the druggists. Evidently the ap])ai'cnt decrease in tcni])eranee enthusiasm does not indi- cate a decrease in temjierance sentiment, or a weakening of the temperance ct)nscience. It only indicates a change in teni- })erance methods. Temperance is ceasing to be a moral spe- cialty. We have tried ever}' sitecilic from constitutional pro- hibition in A'irgiiua in 1()TG to the prayer crusade in Ohio in ]M74. Each has done something ; none has done all. Teni- jierance is taking its place where Paul put it. between right- eiuisness and judgment to come; where I'eter jmt it. between virtue and knowle(lgc. It is coming to be recognized, it has come to be recognized, as a necessary element in every manly character. We are beginning to teach it in our chtuches, our Sunday schools, our day schools. It is growing from a special reform inculcated by temj)erance lecturers and prat:- tised by jdedged total abstainers, into a generic virtue, incul- cated by all our systems of education and belonging to eveiy Christian gentleman. This change marks progress not re- gress. Mr. Oongh is no longer a temperance lecturer, though he still lectures on temi)erance. For the ])ast ten years, ]ierhaps more, popular lectures on lyceum platforms have increasingly taken the ])lace of temperance addresses before temjjeranec societies. iJut wliether he lectures on "Life in Lonwer," lie INTRODUCTIOX. 65 jilwiiys has something to say on his favorite thonio. We have heard him on many occasions, and on many themes, but we liave never lieard liim when his audience did not receive some warnings against the dangers of the drink, or some inspiration toward tlie practice of temjjerance. His winters are eiifrafred in leciurint'' ; his summers are devoted to rest at liis liome at Hillside, iive miles from W(jrcester. After over forty years of lecture experience, lie is still the most pu])uhu' orator in America. The night must be very in- clement, and the circumstances very unproi)itious, when the largest hall in any town or city in the Union is not tilled if .John !?. (Jough is announced to si)eak. Wc shall not venture here upon either a description of his person or his oratory. He is the best known speaker in America ; and such a description in these pages, intended only for American readers, would be superlluous. We count him by far the most eminent dramatic (uator of our time ; in the contagious vitality of his sympathies, in the raj)idity of his intellectual movement, in his power of graphic portraiture of character, in the grace and ease of his modest self-posses- sion before an audience, in the intensity of his passion, in tlie tenderness of his pathos, in the geniality of his humor, and in the flexibility of voice and figure to interpret the soul within, he is without a superior on ])latform or in pul- ]iit, in either England or America. Hut we may add a word of characterization of the man. In our judgment he possesses (jualities of a more solid and substantial nature, wliieh have been dimmed in popular estimation by his bril- liant oratorical gifts. No mere actor and stor3'-telIer could liave kept the ear of two nations for forty years, as Mr. (Jough has dono. He disavows being a logir;il or philosoph- ical speaker; and it is true that his addresses are never oast in a logical or i)hilosophical form. Hut it is also true that he possesses a mind whose i)redominant characteristic is common sense, and a heart whose ])redominant characteristic is common sympathy. We beli(>ve that the reader of tliese [tages will find end)odied in them (>very fundamental ]n'n)- ciple which underlies the temperance movement, and eon- 66 PLATFORM ECHOES. spicuously absent from tlieni cvoiy idiosyucracy which lias- luanvd it. There is no jiathological nonsense about alccjhol in its minutest (piantities being always a i)oison, a doctrine whieli wouhl banish every h)af of risen bread from our tabk>; no exegelieal nonsense about two kinds of liible wines, — one fermented, the otlier unfermented, — a (h)etrine wliicli wouhl banish ahnost every sehtdarly commentary from our libraries. Tiiere is no maudlin charity for the (bunkard, and no nnehristiau invective against the moderate (binker. There is a ]iassionate earnestness against the driidv and a Christian sympathy for the drinker. In moral earnestness Mr. Gough has among eminent temperance workers no su- ])erior ; in large charity it would be dillicult to iind among tlu'in his jteer. Hr is a tenijierance apostli; without l)eing a partisan. He has done more than any other man to lift tlie temi)erance reformation out of the plane of a i)ar- tisan agitation into the higher plane of a great Christian movement for the regeneration of the individnal and of so- ciety. .Sensitive to a fanlt, with a mercurial temi)erament and an impressibk; natnre, he has never been swerved tVnm his settled convictions by temporary excitement : and, as we have seen, lias hail tiie wis(li»m to foresee the dangers whieli threatened the temi)eraiu'e cause from the attempt to change a moral into a merely political agitation, and the eonrage to jiursue his own way undcviated by the wild excitement of others, and unhindered by their oi)position and abnse. His instiiK'ts, his sympathies, and his mind an; broad: iarly education f)r early culture, he has taken on both with wonderi'ul facility; is welcomed, not tolerated, in the best society, and moves in it the recognized peer (d' gen- tlemen, scholars, and statesmen. He has nc^er forgotten tiie bitter and degrading experiences of iiis eaii ■ ycais : but no vulgarity in word and no dis(!ouitesy or rudeness in act ever reminds otluM's (d' i.t. Ilis honu' at Hillside is a model in neatness, etdture, and unostenlati(Uis comfort, of what a Christian home slioiUd be. The winding avenuo leading up to the house suggests the ID). Oil ill ;en- t.'ii hut act and he. the INTRODUCTION. 67 descriptions wliich we so often read in Englisli stories of the approach to an English country seat. Five acres of hiwn slope down toward a meadow land, Avhich melts into a valley across which you look u])()n rounded wooded hills; here smooth and velvety, where the farmer gathers his grass; there clothed with woods of varied lines of green, where the axe has gone only to thin out the underbrush. Within, the house speaks in plain language of much attention to the cul- ture and the comforts of life, and none to its show and its pre- tension. The family consists of the wife and four adopted daughters; Mr. Gough has no children of his own. An adopted son is building up an orange plantation in Florida. The library of over 3,000 volumes is rich in Christian litera- ture and ill art. Among the books are some rare volumes which are monuments to Mr. Gough's perscjnal skill in his olil trade as a bookbinder. He has mounted with his own hands, in his summer recreation, nine volumes of jihotographs, a rarely beautiful collection apart from its associational value ; for each i)hotograph is a reminder of some scene visited, some pleasure experieneed. Still more notable is his collection of Cruikshankiana. This collection comi)rises twentv-six larti'e folio volumes, and contains upward of 8,T00'engravings. and more than :200 original drawings. Tiiese are classilied and carefully indexed. The work has been Mr. Gougli's summer recreation for years. 'J'lie result is certainly the iinest collec- tion in existence of the works of the greatest master of caricature. Many other are the mementoes of woik done and frieiidshijjs formed, which the casual visitor would hardly notice, but which the inmate of the h(»usehold generally discovers; the silver inkstand on the library table ; the set o^' china manufactured in England, with a portrait of Mr. (iough on each piece; the collections of i)liotograph;-. pre- sented by diflerent tein]>cranee societies ; the welcome signed by ministers of different denominations on liis return to America after his seccmd visit to England ; another memorial signed by leading citizens, ministers, and teiuperance reform- ers in New England, New York, New .lersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, and Michigan; a third with 1,100 signaturcii 68 PLATFOKM ECHOES. }^ presented to liiiu in lluutingtlonsliire, Engliuul, eiicli sigmi- ture an implied pledge and an exjjlicit approval of the prin- ciple of total abstinence; a fourth presented on behalf of a Ch'istian temperance society formed in London by lil'teen young men who had been stimulated to their work by INIr. Gough's addresses, and presented in a chapel which had grown out of the work to which he had insjjired them ; several great volumes of signatures to the pledge which he has obtained in his various tours, some autographs, others duplicate copies of the lost originals — these are among the memorials which make this Christian home in some sense a monument of a busy and prolitable Christian life. Of Mr. Gouffh himself and his delijihtfal family in their home, we have no riglit here to speak. For we still hold, despite some eminent authorities to tiie contrary, that the private life of even a ])ublic man is his own, which no penman has a right to invade, and which no one has aright to invite the common public to insi)ect. Among the memorials which give this home a peculiar and hibtoric sacreduess is a silver trowel, bearing the following inscription : — , " I'restMited to J. B. COT'GU, Es<.., ON U I ■« I. A V 1 \ O T 11 i; COUNKH 8TONK COFFEE TAVERN,, IN BANDCATK, KKNT, JT'NK -2(1, 1HI9." This trowel suggests to liim who knows its history and significance the story of Mr. Gough's life. On the 4th of June, 1829, Jolm B. Gougli, then a boy of twelve years of age, took liis seat on tlie mail coach that ran through the then humble and straggling village of Sandgate, to join the ship that was to carry him across the Atlantic with the family to which he was apprenticed. The last sight he saw, as the coach rolled away from the village, was the figure and the tear-bedewed face of his mother crouching behind the INTUODUCTIOX. 69 the viid li of s of the 1 the the saw, and I the low wall built to guard tlie village from the inroads of the sea; she had come out to get a last fond look at her boy. lie left behind him a loyal and loving mother, a sturdy and honest father; but almost nothing else. It was a poor home ho went out from, and an unknown name he bore. On the 6th of June, 1870, lifty years almost to a day from that morning, he came back to his native village to lay the corner stone of a coffee tavern bearing his name, and reared partly by funds raised through his inlluence. Dining that lifty years Sandgate had grown frt)m a hamlet of 120 houses, with a po])ulation of 700, to a thriving and growing town of 2,400 population. A procession, including the representatives of the town, the local clergy, the military, and two temperance societies, accompanied the orator to the i)lace Avhere the ceremonies were to take place. The onlookers who lined the way greeted Jiim with cheers. As he ajjproached the town a body of stalwart men ste])ped forward, and, removing the horses, dragged the carriage containing the once un- known boy, but now world-famous orator, to the site of the Gough Coffee Tavern in the centre of the village, where the stone was laid, and where a characteristic address was given to a throng which not even the jiouring rain could dis]ierse. These two scenes, framing in tiie busy intervening years, tell their own story of battle fought and victory won. Mr. Gough's life is more eloquent than his oratory. His princi- ples, and the iidelity with which he lias maintained them, have earned him the respect, as Ins dramatic eloquence has won for him the admiration, of two nations ; while his sym- pathy and helpfulness have won for him that which is better than either, — the love and blessings of mm umbered myriads, whom Ins words have inspired with a lofty purpose, a noble ambition, and a divine liopo, and perhaps rescued from poverty, degradation, and hopeless wretchedness, to a life of honored manhood here, and a hope of glorious immortality hereafter. '' iili " lUM.SIUK "' — KESIDEXCK Ol' JOHN' 11. GOUGII. :;■■* Isr^^ OA^Mm^i^^sX^^SiS'i cC>%^^-^ "^^-^^ (4 .:! I ;i A '■■ - .'■Ml ■ > .' !!■ ; ■• ■•-. - i; '•I ..;. liMW %•■• .•■■• I 1. , ; ,1 1 . : •■ .< n ■ ; ■• : 1 •,.•.-. (il ' M ■•■■,vh." ••'. ■ ' ■:■. I - A;-.r: ' 1 t, •; 1 !■ '-■f;>;!hi, 1# 1/ !:.■ ,,., !„• '. V A ,.■, •.,. 1 -M . 1 ■ • • , , I \.> . , i ,i; I .1 .M: ; null ■l'. 1 11 I, >--,.■ 1 I ! i,<- 1 •.111' I I >■ i \\ ■ u i ,"■.•,'*■"; z*^... ,* :j 1 / ■ f I .■'■' ■' ~> *■ ,> t ' L 1 ifl CHAPTEIl I. IIAHIT — ITS POWER, USE, AND AHUSE — ROW TO SUBDUE A TYHAXT AND SECUKE A FRIEND. AVliat I Aim to (iivo — Tlio Lessons of Experience — A Peculiar Clocl< — " Wliiit on Eartli will tliiit Fellow do Next ?" — " Oh, 1 Bite my Nails " — Hitliculotis IIiil)its — Scene at a Itaiiway Ticket-OfHce — Memory — Recog- nizing; a Deserter After Thirty Years — Slaves of Fashion — Description of tlie Suit I Wore at Twenty-One — "The "Style"' Forty Years Ago — A Slunuini; Attire — A l>emarkal)le Inventory — Avarice — "Only a Little More" — Tiie Vice of Lyiiii; — The Habit of Swearini; — The Boy Who Swore by "Old Dan 'Vucker" — " I'm Sot, Yes, I'm Sot"— Daniel Webster's Testimony — Two Words Spoken in Season — Ruin and Re- morse — "By and By" — A I'ersistent Lover — A Narrow Escape — "Come Down Wid Ye, Thady"— The Warfare of Life. HE puljlie do not expect from me a litenuy entertainment, an intellectual feast, or a logical argument. I come before you, not to tell you what I Iiave heard or lead, but to tell that which I y know, and to testify to that which ts I have seen. T shall simply aim f^)LP to give some of the results of my Ef?j^'sa*'^r'x «! experience and observation dining ^-' ' '"' the past forty-three years of my jiublic life. The lessons I have learned are the bitter les- sons of experience, hard to learn and ditHcult to forget. T cure but little for the unity of uhat I shall say, and I woullaees? Sir Walter Scott, once hearing his daughtcsr speak of .some- thing as vulgar, asked her if she knew the meaning of the word vulgar, remarking, " 'T is only connnon ; and nothing common, except wickedness, deserves contempt; and when you hav(^ lived to my years you will tliaidc Cuu\ that nothing really worth having or earing for in this world is unconunon." Habit is ae(iuired; instinct is natural; what wc arc accus- tomed to do gives a facility and proneness to do. An old writei' said, " All is habit in mankind, even virtue itself." How insensibly we ac(iuire habits that soon become nn annoyance and vexation! Ask that young lady wliy her fingers are so marred and unsightly. "Oh, I bite my nails." KIDlCULors IIAIJITS. 73 omc- tlio ling i;n ll'lj? c iin licr Ills." ''Why do you?" "I liavo the liiil)i(." "Why do you not Kiop?" " I can't." " Wliiil !i hithl spot you have on the top ot'yotu' hi;ud, why is it?" • Oil, whon I read, I twist the liair rinind my lingers and i)nll it out." "Wliy arc you so fool- isli?" "I liave tlic lial)it of twisting my hair round my huf^ers wlien I read, and llic habit is so strong lliat I cannot read witli comfort unless I linger my liair." " What makes your lingers so deformed with hirgc joints?" "Oil, I pull my lingers and crack tliem." " How ridiculous." " Well, I cau- VICTI.MS oy ii.vmr. nt)t help it. T have acquired the habit." So of numy habits, trilling in themselves, but often sadly annoying to those who accjuire them. I heard of oii(> man, I believe it was Di*. Johnson, who had acinnred the habit of touching every post he passed in the street, anarta new stnMigth to the will, ami renders it more certain that the act will bo repeated. ^^ 1 74 I'Al IKNCK AM) I'OMTKNMSS. Iliiliit is siM'oiid iKitiiif; v,f (Mil iilinosl iii;il<lain a. civil answer (o a civil (piestioii, wlio ha\e an idea that civil- it \' is a sjiccies (d' ser\ ilily that weakens t iieir indepi'iidenc"' ; liiit we «)flon expect, too ninili, and if W(! were inrjiueil to e\ercis(? tlio "charity that suffers loii-^f and is kind." wo niii^ht not liiid so nnnh fault. F sat oik <> fur an li'>iir in the ticket-dlliee of a railway station, ami wdiideicd how ii was pdssihle for the ai^^eiil to keep his leiiipei-; it certainly did r(.'(|uire great sill-contnd and patieinc " Wlieii floes the next train start'.''" " Two u'cliKdc for IJoston." '* What time is it ' " " (^)uartfr of two." "■ Is your time riLdit / " " Ves." "I want a ti(d\et to Newton." •' 'I'liis is an express t rain ; (Iocs 111 stop." '*I)on'l it stop anywdiere ■/ " "Stops at I"'raiiiiiinliam."' "(V.n't I slop at Newton ? " " Nu." " When does the next train go f " " |'"uiir o'cloid<." I AN KXASI'KKATIXO TKAVKM-K15, 75 ''Does thill HlopV" " Y{s." ''llow long does it take; to go to Newton?" "An liour iinil a lialt." "(Jan't I go l)y the cxjue.s.s ? "' "That train don't stnjt at Newfon." " Well, give iiH! a ticket. How nineh?" " One (h)llar.'' "Is that a good hill ?" " Yes." " When did yon say 'he train slarled?" lOxpress at two; the other at lonr." Kxi»res8 (hjn't sl(»[» at Newton ? " " No." // "The other does?" " Yes. IMease stand ont of the way." " Well, yon iKjcd n't Ix- so linlly ahont it." All this while other j>asscngors are calling for ti(d is the medicine you were to bring from the city?" "Oh, I forg(»t that: I was to get some fruit and medicine; I have the fruit, but I forgot the other." It is our duty to set ourselves diligently at work to remedy, as far as we may, even a natural defect ; and I believe a man can overcome a ruvtural propensity and remedy a natural defect if he sets himself to work, by God's help and the power of liid own will. I I I SLAVES OF FASHION. 77 What absolute slaves we are to fashion or custom I TIealth, comfort, usefulness, even life, sin'rificed in obedience to its commands. Fashion bids tliat a young hidy must yield the beautiful symmetry of her figure to be squeezed, braced, com- pressed, and laced, till the "human form divine" becomes su distorted that a sculptor would copy it only as a deformity. For fashion's sake we invite pain, from corns on the toes to neuralgia in the head; we court the ridiculous, and wel- come the absurd. We must all con- t'lirm to fashion. Better be out of the world than out of the fashion. Few young men would have the courage to wear in the street now the suit I wore at twenty-one ; a plum-colored coat with high colhir, tight sleeves, narrow jbody, — so narrow that to get into it you must obey the directions of the negro, " Now, sah, first shove one arm in, then t'other, and give one general eonwulsion," — bright brass buttons, long slender tails ; with trousers the same color as the coat, fitting tightly to tlie skin, strapped down so close that, in sitting, you felt that somethuig must go somewhere (and something was con- tinually going somewhere: a man never fell down and got up whole in those days); — a figured velvet waistcoat, so contrived as to exhibit a broad domain of shirt-front; with a collar stiff and starched, pvishing out some inches in ad- vance of the cliin ; and a silken stock buckled so tight as to j)revent seeing the feet without an effort; boots narrow and pointed, with room enough beyond the toes for part of a pound of cotton ; and a hat very stove-pipey, inclining FORTY VI:AH8 Alio. 78 A IIKMAKKAIJLK INVENTOKV, f slightly to tlio bell, and broad in tlio brim. Yet that was '' style " forty odd years ag^o, and the present fashion would have been considered as absurd then as that is now. I am not suiliciently acquainted with ladies' dress for criti- cism ; but I know their apparel requires ribbon, insertion, braid, lace, silk, whalebone, steel s])rings, buttons, muslin, tassels, velvet, beads, spangles, worsted, fringe, tatting, ruiHes, ginjp, flounces, founda- tions, t u c k s, p u ff s, skirts, ruches, waists, belts, padding, collars, cufis, frills, uiider- sleevcs, sjjit curls, nets, veils, rosettes, bracelets, iinger and ear rings, mitts, furs, capes, victorines, mufl's, gloves, switches, plum- pers, chains, brottches, pins, hooks and eyes, plumes, hair-pins, combs, [lowder, rouge, artificial ilowers, chate- laines, fans, parasols, handkerchiefs, perfum- ery. newspai)ers, and numy other articles too numerous to mention. An old man with a rag-bag in his hand, jjicking up pieces of whalebone and other matters in the street, was asked, " IIow did all (hose things come here?" "Don't know; I 'sjjcct some unfortunate female was wrecked here- abouts somewhere." SCKXK OK TIIK WliKCK. I THE VICE ^)F LYING. •9 But there remain liahits to speak of, more serious in tlieir intlueiice on the moral part of man's nature than those men- tioned. Avarice, wliicli has heen termed "'orinjinal pcverty," wiiich makes men grow mean and cruel, and starve and [Much themselves, to heap u^. yellow dust, scratching and scraping for that "little more," only a '"little more," with hearts as hard as the coin they love and as tough as the hag that holds their treasure. A man with many thousand dollars, a mem- ber of the church in a country town, who is perfectly satisfied with the minister, regularly contributes live cents for himself and wife to the supi)ort of the church every sabljath. This is a fact, and no fiction. The habit of lying is acijuired in tlici first place hy a want of reverence for truth as truth; for instance, in the desire to create a sensation by an exaggeration of the simjtle facts, then by occasional equivocation, until, at length, the vice of lying becomes a second nature. A man may become a eol(>s- sal liar who would lie for the mere sake of lying. Tn these days of sensationalism the danger is greatly increased. There is a great difference between relating an anecdote merely for the purjiose of illustration, as a parable or alle- gory, and the exaggeration of a siniplf' fact. A por.son addicted to lying relatinl a story to another which made him stare. " IJiil you ever livar that before?" said he. '" No," said the other, "did you?" I once read of a ])risoiu'r who was charged with In'ghway ro'l)bery. Diiring the trial he roared out, "I'm guilty!" when the jury imniedhitely jiro- i.ounced him not guilty. " Why, geiitlomen," said the judge, "did you not hoar the man declare himself guilty?" '• Yes. my lord, and that was the reason we acc^uitted him, for we know the fellow to be such a notorious liar that he never told a word of truth in his life." Some of these men might be agreeable companions, but the great drawback to your I * 80 A TENDEU CONSCIENCE. enjoyment of their society is the want of coulidenci! in their statements. The habit of profane swearing is gradually and almost in- sensibly acquired. Many a swearer can remember when he shuddered at an oath, and he who now uses the name of the Creator and Redeemer in the most horrible and blasphemous associations learned to swear. In his fiilso estimate of man- liness he uttered his first oath perhaps with a trembling heart, conscience upbraiding him ; but among those who swear he must swear too. There is no habit more foolishly and insanely wicked than this. All sin is folly, but this is pure folly and wickedness. Men generally sin for profit or pleasure, for preferment, or indulgence of some propensity, but, to use the language of an old minister, " To swear is to bite the bare hook of God Almighty's wrath ; there is no bait to tempt to it; it is simply wicked." I know that some make the excuse that they swear with- out thinking. If they do, what a fearful illustration of the power of habit; but men generally swear because they be- lieve it is wicked. Hear a profane man when he is angry; his rage boils over iu oaths and curses. A boy was crying bitterly. His mother asketl, " What's the matter ? " "1 've been swearing." " What did you say ? " " Oh I I 've been swearing, oh dear ! " " Well, my child, what did you say ? " " Oh ! oh ! mother — I got mad, and I said, ' Old Dan Tucker.' " His conscience troubloi^ him for the intention to say something wicked. Young men, it is neither noble, heroic, nor manly to swear. It is u mean, offensive sin. To swear in public is an outrage that no rue gentleman will be guilty of. Swear not at all. Break the Inbit if you have ac oic, 'ear ilty •ed )mc I it r I fm. workeil, profanity was so I'liglitfiilly rampant that an agree- ment was made that sixpence shoiiUl be paid as a line for every oath. One young man, a notorious swearer, was lined several times, once for say- ing with an oatli that he wouhl not be lined again. One day he met witli a l)rov()king ac- t^- cident at l)is work, and the ready oath ^ ^ sprung to his lips. Tlie men stoi)pcd ■ ■ ~ -^ v; - ' ■ - tlieir work to •niE HOY WHO 8WOUK IJV "OLD I)AN TUCKEU." Watcll lli Ul. He set his teeth, he stamped his feet, his face grew red, the veins in his forehead swelled, he clenched his fists, lie seemed choking, ami at last lie cried out, '• Constumparampusl There I I did n't swear, did I ? 1 iVol bettor." It was his first stniggli' against tiie habit, and it seemed easier for him. after that, to refrain. Many men ))ride tliemselves on their firmness, which is a name they give to an acquired obstinacy. "You cannot move me," as the old man said, "I'm sot, yes I'm sot, and when I'm sot, a meetin'-house ain't softer!" Such a man doesn't hold opinions, but oi)inions hold Iiim ; when he is possessed of an error, it is like the evil spirit, cast out with difficulty ; what lie lays hold of he never loses, though it ,^;5,;^^-a£i.-^:-. Ntii 82 PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY. I > I help to sink lain ; the sliglitcr and more inconsistent liis fancies are, the tigliter lie clings to them. Some of them would full to i)ieces if he did not. He opposes you in things indifferent and IVivolous, and would suffer martyrdom rather than part with the least scruple of his prejudices. He under- stands no man's reason but his own ; his understanding is as hard as Pharaoh's heart, and is proof against argument ; with him, a prejudice once conceived, or a passion once cherished, will resist all rational argument for its relinquish- ment. ''He will deny all he has never witnessed, and refuse to witness all he is resolved to deny." In many cases the recklessness of youth, indulged with- out restraint, leads to a habit of systematically ignoring all individual responsibility. Every man has felt, more or less, the consciousness of his personal responsibility to Gi»d and bis fellow-men pressing upon him ; the world's great men have acknowledged it as of the highest importance. Some years ago, when Mr. Webster was Secretary of State, he was dining with a party of friends, by whom great efforts had been made to draw him into conversation, but without suc- cess. At last one r)f the gentlemen turned to him and said, '• Mr. Webster, 1 want you to tell me what was the most im])ortaut thought that ever occupied your mind." ^Ir. Webster slowly passed his hand across his forehead, looked over the table, and said, "'riu' most important thought that ever occuj)ied my mind was that of my individual responsi- bility as a man to God I" In too many cases a persistent course of selfishness and .self-gratilication stilles and chokes this sense of obligation, and men grow into the habit of living sim])ly in reference to themselves and the present life. "Oh, if I was ever lucky enough to call this estate mine, I should be a happy fellow," said a young man. "And then?" said a friend. "And W BATTLING FOR VICTORY. 88 s and atioii, ue to itcky low," ■And tlieii ? Why, then I "d pull down tliu old liouso and build a palace, have lots of prime fellows around me, keep the best wines and the iinest horses and doys iu the country."' "And then?" "Why, then I'd hunt, and ride, and smoke, and drink, and dance, and keep open house, and enjoy life gloriously." "And then?" "Why, tlu'ii, I suppose, like other people, I should grow old and not care so much for these things." "And then?" "Why, then, I 8upi)ose, in the course of nature I should leave all these pleasant things and — well, yes — diel" "And then?" "Ob, bother your 'thens:' 1 must be off," Many years after, the friend was accosted with, "God bless you; f owe my happiness to you I" "How?" "By two words spoken in season long ago, — 'and then?"" Would I could reach some young man who is drifting into the dead sea of an aindess life, — an aimless existence. What a mockerv of life I Who can describe the fearful void, the yearning for an object, the self-re[)roach for wasted powers, the weariness, the loathing of pleasure and frivolity, the consciousness of a deadening life, a s|iiritual paralysis, with no r('S[)oiise to human interests, no enthusiiism, no symi)athy with nobk' deeds: when the world becomes a blank, and nothing is left but the heavy benund)ing weight of personal helplessness and desolation. Hetter, nobler, to stand face to fiioe with wrong and sin, battling ever f(.r victory, than as a iiuuian machine in one daily round of self-indulgence, dul- ncss, and folly. Oh, let my pulses swell like a torrent, and I'Hur themselves out till they cease. Let heart and brain Work their work. He my life short and swift as a shuttle through the loom. Let it be a life full, strong, rich. Though it be but a day only, it shall be as one of the days of God, which are as a thousand years. Time would fail to enumerate the many habits that, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V A i^s ^ '<" C^x y 5r /^y. 1.0 I.I II.25 l!f lit 2,2 U 11 1.6 %' •-(b^ f--^j^- I n 84 A. riTIFUL srECTACLE. t! ' acciuired and indulged, mar tlie beauty and destroy the sym- metry of the true man. Oh, if we coukl find one man free. Is there such a one? Stand up ! tliou grand image of a true manhood. Raise tliat face, sublime in its gentleness, with the puie lips through which the foul ini[)ioties of boasting youth have never yet passed, with the eyea that have not scorned to let their lashes droop over a tear of soitow or sympathy for others ! Lift up the hand which never used its strength against a weaker fellow-creature! Stand forth in the midst of a debased and degraded world, adorned with integrity, sobriety, chastity, and all virtue ! Stand up ! noble and meek-hearted, and show us the likeness of a man. We love to contemplate such a vision, and turn away to look sadly on men as they make themselves. Is it not pitiful to see the many, many slaves of evil habit, pressing hard into the ranks, and enlisting under the black banner of intemperance, licentiousness, and the hosts of debasing, degrading passions, that cling to and destroy the victim, alluring, fascinating like the fabled vampire, fanning to sleep with its broad wings while l>e draws vitality at every breath? Look at him! Stand up, if you can, victim of vice ! Stand up, if you dare, slave to intemperance and its companion sins ! Sec how habit, with its iron net, envelops him in its folds ! He curses his misery, while lie hugs the chains that bind him ; he frets Ins very heart-strings against the rivets of liis fetters, forever protesting against the fierce over-mastering curb-chain that galls him, yet forever sub- mitting to receive the horril)le bit in his mouth. Behind liim lowers the thunder-cloud of retribution ; before him is the smooth steep whose base is ruin and despair. By his own will he rushes on; every particle of the propelling power emanates from himself; yet he shrieks in agony as he remem- bers his former hopes and ambitions. P9 nw KUSIIIN(J TO DESTUUCTION. 85 oi: its list •ce il)- lul 1 is liis nver Then, ill the noisy revel, the debauch, and fierce excite- ment of drink, he tries to forget his being. Memory is his foe, so he Ihes for false solace to the wine-cup. He stuns his enemy at evening, but she rends him liice a giant in the morning. Once he could pray; once he loved purity; once he drank from the fountain-head of peace. He thinks of this and it maddens him. The mother's hymn that once lulled him to sleep now rings in his ear and wakes him to agony. His face once bore God's image ; now the foul brand of intemperance is on his brow, sensuality sits upon his lip, the dull water of disease stands stagnant in his eye, and the bright image of (}od is marred. Once purity was his gar- ment ; now he is appa- relled in the filthy livery of his tyrant master. He bartered his freedom for a lust, and now endures unutterable thraldom. He sold his birthright for a pleasure, and now is cursed with a heritage of woe. He dissolved his pearl of price in the cup, and drank it. Thus he rushes on, scorned and despised by his fellow-men, his better nature loathing the thing he has made liimself, carrying a foretaste of the undying worm within liis breast, wrapped in dull despair, or shouting in fearful wildness, or laughing in the glee of the maniac, shrinking, shivering, dreading, yet wil- fully approaching, he staggers on the brink, shrieking, cursing, reeling on the edge. With one look upon the past, the mighty deluge of sin rolling after him, lie clasps his poor, swollen hands, and in mad despair plunges into utter ruin. MEMORIES OF THE PAST. 80 PROCRASTINATION AND INDOLENCE. I' I IH li it' Oh, young men, if you would be great unci Iui[)py, hold the reins, assume and maintain the regal power over your passions and appetites, battle every evil propensity bravely, breast the tide of temptation ; then you will appreeiate and realize the truth and power of Solomon's declaration, "Pie that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city." The liabit of procrastination often causes vexation, loss of friends, and even ruin. IIow many utterly fail to accomplish their life's work through this habit, never doing what ought to be done at the time it should be done; their life is one great neglect. " I intend to do it I " It is said that the road to a certain place is paved Avith good intentions. Letters are received ; I must answer them ; I will, by-and-by. Days pass, the by-and-by is as far off as ever, friends are grieved, business disarranged, losses arc incurred, character is endangered, for the lack of promptness. Pass by the house of the procras- tinator. IIow dilapidated and forlorn! Why? He has intended to repair ; and when the wind and rain drive in, oh ! " I must do something I 1 will at once I " Fair weather comes ; "I will by-and-by," like the Irishman Avho said, '* AVhy don't I thatch my roof? Because, when it rains, it 's wet, and I can't, and when it 's dry, it don't need it." ]\Iany a man's fortune has been marred by the putting off till to- morrow what ought to be done to-day. A large proportion of men's sins are not acts committed, but acts they have failed to perform. A habit nearly allied to this is that of indolence. Some men grow unutterably lazy. Thomson, authtu- of "The Seasons," Avas once found by a friend in bed late in the day. "Why do you not get up?" "Oh, I have no motive." In- dustry, promptness, and perseverance are essential to sr ss. A shiftless, lazy, unstable man never succeeils, except in becoming a nuisance. There is a power in persistence. I ' i il ] M nine The ilay. Ill- ss. iu I THE PJtACTICE OF VIRTUE. 87 remember ii Scotcli IVicinl of mine used to speak of per- sistence as one of the cardinal virtues. I lieard of a man who went courting every evening, a distance of three miles and back, for fourteen years, walking about fifteen thousand miles. He got his wife ; and I hope she was as good as such perseverance merited. We often say a man "lias made a lucky liit," and some men may, by a bold venture, make such a liit : but, as a rule, it is nt)t accident, but a strong purpose and patient industry, that helps a man on in the world. Read the lives of great men, and you read of resolution, ](atience, and perseverance. By long and sometimes painful labor have they wrought a rich inheritance of thoughts and deeds lor their successors, and for themselves immortality. Every man who M'ould break a bad liabit must exercise patient persistence, never llinching till victory is gained. I)Ut remember this, young men, — liabit strengthens with age. In proportion to the loss of shame at a vice is the gain of recklessness in pursuing it. INIany a man reels through the street, drunk at noon-day, whose first act of intoxication was a mortificauon to his pride. The turning becomes more dillicult. The practice of virtue may become a habit by discipline. Some men become habitually trntliful, honorable, generous, and virtuous, and maintain their integrity even to their own ajiparent damage. A young man was pointed out to me with the remark, "There is a young man who has come out of the army as pure as lie entered it." Among those wlio shall inhabit the holy hill are they who swear to their own hurt and change not. A poor soldier was seated on the top of a stage-coacli at the time wlion in England the penalty for overstaying a furlough was Hogging. These Hoggings were very severe. Men liave died under the lash. He had, or thought he had, overstayed his time, and was resolutely set !|9*i 88 THE STOllY OF TIIADY. n |l|: on going to his regiment with the certainty of receiving a flogging. lk'h)w stood liis mother, brother, and sweetlieart, all earnestly enlreaiin^- liiiu not to retnrn to certain and severe punislunent. "Come down wid ye, Tliady ; come down, now, to your old mother; sure it's flog ye they will, and strip the flesh off the bones of yez. Come down, Thady darlint." " It 's honor, mother dear," as he set his teeth. and fixed himself more firmly on his seat. ^'ia " Thady, come down, ye fool of the world ; come along down wid ye." "It's honor, brother; it 's honor," sitting more erect. " O Thady ! come down ! sure it 's me, 3*our own Kathleen, that bids ye : come down, or ye '11 break the heart of me, Thad}', jewel ; come down, then.'" "It's honor, honor bright, Kath- leen, darlint," as he fixed his eye steadily before him. "Come down, Thady, honey." " Tliady, ye fool, come down." " O Thady, come down to me I " was the chorus from mother, brother, and sweetheart. "It's honor, mother; it's my promise; it's honor, bro- ther ; it 's honor bright, ni}' own Kathleen." A gentlemfin, making inquiries, was informed of the facts. " When does your furlough expire, my man?" " The first of March, your honor, bad luck to it of all the ' CO.ME IJOWN Win YK, THADV." ^i TUE IMl'OllTANCE OF LITTLE THINGS. 89 black days of the world, and here it is come sudden on nio like a shot." " Tlie first of March, why, my good fellow, you liave a day to spare then ; to-morrow is the first of March ; it is leap- year, and February has twenty-nine days." '* Twenty-nine days, is it? Say it again, you're sure of tliat same ? O mother I mother ! the divil lly away with yer old almanac, a base cratur of a book to be desavin' me, after living so long in the family of us." Off he jumped from the coach, and hugged mother, brother, and Kath- leen. *' Hurrah! my darlint. Kathleen, dear, hurrah! It's a happy man ] am. God bless your honor, and con- found the dirty old almanac; my word's saved! May ye live a long hundred years, and every one of them a leap-year ! " Some may complain that I have given undue prominence to habits that are deemed trivial ; but can any habit be deemed trivial that affects the character for good or evil? We grow into the habit, often, of desi)ising little things, and yet some of the greatest discoveries have originated in the observance of familiar and simple facts. The greatness of some of the world's great men is not so much the utterance of great thoughts as their readiness to detect the significance of little things. Galileo, when eighteen, saw in the cathe- dral at Pisa a lamp swinging to and fro, and from that con- ceived the idea of the pendulum for marking time. Sir Samuel Brown, by noticing a spider's web, conceived the idea of the suspension-bridge. Seaweed iloating past his ship enabled Cohnubus to quell tlie mutiny and discover the A " DESAVIN CKATrH," if 90 THE PATH OF DESOLATION. li li i ;; ll i r it 1 1 f 1 new world. Franklin's first experiments in electricity were by a kite made of two sticks and a silk handkercliief. The first brushes of West, the painter, were nuide from the cat's tail. Watts's first model of the condeusinjr steam-engine was made of a syringe. Professor Faraday made his first experiment in an old bottle. Much might be written on the value and importance of little things. How little things will grow, and how mighty is an accumulation of little things ! A flake of snow, how softly and quietly it comes ; how small and frail it is, breathe on it and it is gone ; it rests on yonder crag, an insect could brush it off with its wing ; but another falls, and another, descending noiselessly, till an avalanche hangs over the valley. Scientists have told us that even the motion of air produced by a human voice will sometimes loosen a tottering avalanche and send it, like a winding-sheet of death, down, down ! The trees in its fearful track, that have for centuries stood lirm against the mountain torrent and Inaved the mountain storm, with the snapj^ing of ten thousand roots and crashing of their giant arms, slip from their anchorage and drift away ! The huge rocks, ancient as the everlasting hills, roll from their bed and join in the ter- rible devastation ; the valley is filled with desolation, the village is lost in the wreck and ruin, and men in after years point tremblingly to the track of the awful avalanche. There are those who uniijrtunatel}' have a constitutional tendency to weaknesses or vices, and such may ask, " If I am born with impulses and passions so strong, and, in some eases, with a will so weak, can I be blamed for the results?" Every man is responsible for his voluntar}^ acts, whatever may be the moving impulse. Sin and criine are always sin und crime, Avhatever the constitutional tendency. There are facts to prov^e that one man is born with im- pulses and tendencies to part ii".ilar forms of virtue and vice THE WARFARE OF LIFE. 91 stronger tliau otliers. The })assion3 and appetites are more dilHcult to control in those wlio have inherited them, for instance, from parents who have never checked them in tlieir own lives, as the inherited a[)petite for drink. It is mneh easier for tliose who inherit a placid, even temperament, with no strong emotions, to be orderly and virtnous, than for some others ; hnt all can — yes, despite all allurements and temptations, all can — conquer evil passions and appetites. Here man differs from the brute ; for man can be what he will. Nothing reduces a man nearer to tlie level of the brute than indulgence in habits of selfishness, disregard to the rights of others, vice, or immorality. Life is a warfare. IV) some it is more severe than to others , l)ut all ma}- fight tlie good figlit and attain the reward. None are born in- cai)able of virtue, though one may be born with such a constitutit)nal tendency to wrong that his life will be one mighty struggle against the power of evil, liut is it not a glorious struggle to see a man in God's name battling his own evil nature ? Oh, it is sublime, this wrestling with an evil desire, this crushing out a wicked passion, this mastery of self by the force of his In'gli resolve and the power of tlie miglity will: "I will! I will! by the lielp of God I will." To liim that overcometh — ah, yes! glorious repetition, " Jiim tliat overcometh," seven times repeated, overcometh I — the tree of life, safety from the second death, tlie white stone with the new name, the morning star, the white rai- ment, a pillar in the temple, a seat on the throne with Him in whose name he has conquered. To him that overcometh. 'J'lien buckle on the armor, brave heart ; stand firm in the fight. If you fall, your enemies shall not rejoice. Ay, though you fall ten times, yet up again, battered, bruised, covered with scars more gloricnis than were ever borne by earth's greatest warriors, till by-and-by — yes, by-and-by, I 92 VICTORY. Btandiiig erect, your armor dented and broken — you shall shout Victory, victory I and tlie angels will take up the jubi- lant hosanna, Victory I victory ! as you hang your battered armor on the battlements of heaven, and, having f(jught the good light, lay your laurels at the feet of Him through whom and by whom you stand redeemed forever from the power and dominion of every evil habit. I'i I . f !: j : 1 > i 1 J: LOWEU HAM. I.V MIt. (iOldllS IIOl SK, CHAPTER II. TO YOUNG MEN — SOWINC TIIK WIND AND HEAl'INti THE ■WHIRLWIND — A TALE OF UL'IN, KEMOUSE, AND DEATH. Slicking One's Hand in a Katdcsnake's Den — licwaie — "C"ai)tain, There's One of 'Em'" — Sowing Wild Oats — (iiiding Down tlie Stream — "lie You a Dru','.,'ei'.'" — 'I'lie Ver.iant Young Man in .Seareli of "Seentin' Stutt"" — Smelling lionnd for the ilight Thing — A Sniff that Astonished Him — The Story of Daniel Wehster's Classmate — JIow Wehsler Tried to Save Ilini — His Tragic Death — " (Jet l'\) ! CJet Up ! The Train is Com- ing !"' — Cries of Despair from tlie I'it — A Itoad Strewn with Spei'tres — The Most Tainful Scene 1 Ever Witnessed — Why the Boy 'I'lirashed the Cat — A Cold Day for Puss — An I'^nexpected Sc"ne at the Marriage Altar — The Story of Adam and His Whiskey Jug — Crannning Adam Into the Closet — A Laughahle Story — A Stoiy of Ruin and Death — "Tom, Old Fellow, is This You'.*" — "Too Late, Jem; Don't Leave Me " — Taking the Wrong Direction. 'NE favorite argument of young men in reference to the use of intoxicutiug drink is, "When I lijul out that it is doing me an injury, then I will give it up." That is making an admission and coming to a conclusion. The admission is true ; the conclu- sion is false. Yon admit it may injure yon, and when it has — no, tliere would be some serse in that; but when you find oiit that it has injured you, then you will quit it. You won't use such an argument in reference to any other matter. "I Avill put my hand into the den of a rattlesnake, and when I '! il i m h ■ I' 94 "CAPTAIN, TIIKUK'.S ONE OF 'KM." fiul out that ho lias stuck his fangs into nie I will draw it out and got it cured as (quickly as possible." There is no coninu)n sense in^ that. Young men, beware of this thing, l)ccanse it is a snare. It is fearfully deceiitive. Every man who ihinks intends to be a moderate drinker. 1 have said this over and over again, because I believe it to l)e important. Every man wlio be- comes intemperate does so by a course of argument from the beginning all the way th»wn to ruin. Young men, you say, ^^W/wn 1 find out thdf it U iiijio'liii/ nw, then I will '>l into lloston Harbor. "Now," said he to the captain, '■ I "11 stand 'midships, and you can take the helm. I know every rock in this channel — every one of 'em — 1 know 'em all, and I '11 give you warning." By and by tlu' vessel sti'uck upon a rock, and the shock threw everybody down upon the deck. The }>oor pilot got up, j'ubbing himself, and said, " C'ai)tain, there 's one of 'em.'" Now we say to young men, "There's one of them. Hard up your helm before you strike I " That is sensible. If 3'ou Jtave struck, haul off and repair danuiges, and then strike again. Is that sensible? In time the poor old battered hulk will not bear any more damages, and men will bury you, ii broken wreck. That is the end of it in many cases. " ]Vhcn I find out that it is injuring me, then I will give it up.'"' Gather all the drunkards of this country together, and ask them every one, "^l/-e you drinkinfi enough to injure you?''' A large proportion will declare that they are not. Each one of them has become a drunkard in the sight of God and man before he has become one in his own estimation. Intoxicatino; drink decepti '•y 4 minds me of the fable of the serpent in a circle of fire. SOWING WILD OATS. 05 A nuiu was passing by, and tlio snake said to liim, "Help me out of my dilHiculty." "If I do, you '11 bite me." '"Oli, no, I won't." "1 'ni afraid to trust you,'' "Help nie out of the lire, or it will consume me, and I promise on my woid (if honor I won't bite you." TIil' man ti>ok the snake t)ut of the fire, and threw it on the ground. Instantly the scri)ent said, "Now I'll bite you." " IJut didn't you promise me you wouldn't?" "Yes, but don't you know //■".•< inii tidfiirr to bite, and I caiuiot helji it." So it is with the drink. It is its nature to bite; it is its nature to deceive. Young men say (and I have heard thciu more than once) that they "must sow tlirir wild oats." Kemember this, young gentlemen, "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall ho also reap." If you sow corn, you re:\[) ci>rn. If you sow weeds, you reaj) weeds. If you sow to the tlcsli, you will of the tlesh reap corruption. But if yoii sow to the spirit, you will of the spirit reap life everlasting. Ah, young men, look at fli((t reaping, and then contemplate th(3 awful reaping of men to-day who are rcajiing as they have sown, in bitterness of spirit and anguish of soul. '■'W/irii I fin J out t/iat it is in)i()'iii(/ me, THEN I iriU (jice it vji." Surely that is not common sense. Such i> the fascination thrown around a man by the power of this habit, that it must have essentially injured him before he will acknowledge the hurt and consent to give it up. ]\Iany a man has been struck down in his prosperity, has been sent to prison for crime, before ho acknowledged that his evil habit was injur- ing him. I remember riding from lUitfalo to Niagara Falls, and I said to a gentleman, "What river is that, sir?" "That," he said, "is Niagara Kiver." "It is a beautiful stream," said T, "bright, smooth, and glassy; liow far oif are the rapids ? " " Only a few miles," was the reply. " Is it possible that only a few miles from us we shall find ths f "F 96 CiLlDIXG TO DESTIUICTIDN. water in the turbuloiu'e which it must show wlien near the riipids?" ''You will liiid it so, sir." And so 1 found it, and that lirst si>;ht of Nia<;ara Falls 1 shall never forget. Now, huuu'h your hark on that river; the water is smootli, beautiful, and .ulassy. Thei'e is a ripple at the how of your boat, and the silvery wake it leaves behind adds to your enjoyment. Vou set out on your ]>leasuro excursion. Down the stream vou •ilide; oars, sails, and helm ii l)rope trim. Suddenly some one cries out from the bank, "Young eicnt for the (hvy is the evil thereof. We will enjoy life wliile we may; we will catch i)U'asuic ;is it Hies. This is enjoyment, time enough to stei'r out of diinger wlien we are " Young men, ahoy!" ow sailing too swiftly with the current." "What is it?" "IJeware, beware I tlie rapids are bel you." Now you feel them ! See the water foaming all around! Sec how fast you [kiss that [loint! Up with the IN 8EAKCII OF "SCKNTIN" STUFF." 97 //■ mast u on, men, you. SulVi- y life liis is ■\YC an^ loy I \)('lo\V \\(r all Ih Uie helm! Now turn! I'uU hard ; (piick, (juick ! Pull for your lives! I'uU till (lie hlood starts iVom the nostrils and the veins stand like whipeord upon the brow. Set the mast in the soeket, hoist the sail I Ah, ah, it is too latt>; Taster and faster you near the awful catai'aet, and then, shrieking, cursing, howling, })raying, over you go. Thousands launeli their barks in smooth water and realize no danger till on the verge of ruin, boasting all the while to the last, " When I iind out that it is injuring me, then I will give it ui)." Tiie power of this habit, I repeat, is fascinating, is deee[)tive, and men Ui.iy go on arguing and coming to conclusions while on the way down to destruction. People (1(1 uot act with eonunon sense in this matter as they ilo in others. I read of a Yankee who went into an apothecary's shop in IJoston. " 15e you a drugger?" he asked. "I am an apothecary, and I sell drugs." "Well, have you got any of this 'ere scentin' stufT that gals put ou their handkerchiefs?" " Yes, I have." "Well, my sister Sal gave me niiu'peiu'c, and told me to invest the whole amount in jest sich truck if I could f doing yourself an injury. Let me tell you that the subtle inllu- ences of drink upon you are injuring you more and more every diiy. A man is being damaged a long time before he knows it. Intoxicating liquor is fearfully deceptive iu its nature. To return for a minute to the argument, "I can let it alone when I please." Suppose I lie upon the railway track ; some J A ROAD STHEWX WITH SPECTRES. 101 iiat he took luil'led , One ,iidl;t's eseutly I eager iiou I'ov . The meet he silly 1 idiot, od!" he '■ 1 eould my wile I but an Hot ! — le went auk Uini- aftev las )Useliold the chil- toys, a ,r doing )tle iullu- ind more before he vo ill it^i* .t it alone ek; some one cries out to nu', "(Jet up, gcjt up, the train is coming." "You mind your own business; I'm not fool enough to be run over, am I? 1 can get up when I've a mind to, and 1 can lie here as long as I please, can't I?" I boast of a power I positively possess, but I have no will to exercise the power, and the train comes thundering on and cuts me in two. Wluit am I ? I am a self-murderer, I had the power ; I had the warning; I refused to exercise this power; and, when swift destruction the power was ti Every man that dies a drunkard, dies a suicide. He had the pow- er to escape, and he had the warn- ing; there is not a man who dares to say, " I have had no warn- ing." Stop one moment; stop and listen ; you can hear the "okt it, oet up, tiik tuain is comixo." shrieks that come u]) from the vortex, — shrieks, piercing shrieks of desi)air fron^ those who are sinking to rise no more. Your whole way is lined with spectres that are point- ing to the future of those who lieedlessly argue their way down the fatal sliding scale. Therefore every man who dies a drunkard, dies a suicide. I heard a, gentleman dispute that once. He said, "A man that is a suicide is one that destroys his life at once." I said to him, " Don't you consider a man a suicide if he shortens 1 *i I \,l i i n II |li ( > 1 j i L L- 102 A I'AlNFri. SCKNK, liis life ten minutes?" "No," said lie; " I don't." At that time there was a man under sentenee of death. "Now," said I, " suppose, ten minutes before that man is to be hung, lu^ cuts his tiiroat, what is he?" "lie is a suieide, eertainly." ''Hut he has only shortened his life ten minutes." I believe that eveiy nnui who shortens his existence by the ]inrsuit of gratiliealion that is injurious to him is in a degree a destroyer of his own life. ''J can, but I won't." You remenilier Samson was bound three times, and each tinu' Delilah said to him, "The IMiilistines be ujjou thee, Sanison," and three times he burst the thongs that l)ound him, and stood up again free. IJy-and-by he told her all his heart, and laid his head on her la]), and she called a man t)f her people, who sheared his locks. Then she said to him. "The Philistines be upon thee, Samson." Vt'hat did he sa}' ? " I will go out and shake my- self, as at other times." He went out, but the power was gone, and in his lielplessuess ihey i)ut out iiis eyes. Ciod pity any man when he begins to feel the fetters of a habit gall Inm, who, when he goes out to burst his chains, finds tlie welded iron bands eidering into his marrow, until he lifts his shackled hands to heaven and cries, " Who shall deliver me from the slaveiy of drunkenness ? " " I can, but I won't." The most painfid scene I ever witnessed in my life was by the bedside of a man who said, " I would, but I can't." The difference between you and the poor sot is : you can, but you won't : he would with all his heart, but he fears that he can't. You see a man standing before the bar or before the counter. His cry is, "(Jive me drink; I must have it. I will give you my own liard earnings, but give me drink I I will give you m(ue than that. T married a wife ; I took her from her girlhood's home ; I promised to love her and cherish her, and protect her, and I liave driven her out to work for me. Ah, ah ! I liave stolen her- wages, and I have brought J A COLD DAY FOR PUSS. 103 .t that ,"' siiul ng, lio iiiuly."" believe •suit of st rover lUMiiber said to e times liii free. 1 on luT ircd liis on thee, like n\y- Aev was evs of a chains, w, nntil lo shall iin,but 1 my life can t. can, bnt that he fore the e it. I drink ! ook her cherish ork for brought them to you ; I will give them to you if you will give me drink. More yet: I will give you the price of bread that I snatched from the parched lijis of my famished ehihl. More yet: I hav(! some money in my hand; I drove out my little child to lie and to cheat in the street, and 1 will give you that if yon will give ni' drink. Yes, I have sold my child, body and sonl, and I will give you the jiayment. More yet: 1 ■will give yon ni}' health: I will give yon my humanity. More yet: 1 will give you my ho})es of heavi'ii ; I will give you body and soul, bnt give me drink! "' And there are men to-day barter- ing their birthright for a dram, and selling their heritage for drink. "•When 1 find ont it is ininriiiLi: me, then I will give it uj)." lint «7a7Mvi!l a man hnd out it is injur- ing him? And when a man finds that out, that is the vcrij time when he will not give it ii]). A man be- comes an intemperate man, and is deceived by supposing that no one knows anything about it. lie has been indulging, and thiidcs no one knows it ! Why, the very children in the street know it. I remcnd)er hearing what a boy once said to his mother. J lis mother saw him thrashino; the cat severely, when she said, " What is the matter with the eat?" '' Three days ago," the boy said, "I got that cat under my arm, and I ])ut my pen to her paw, and wrote 'Puss' on the pledge, and now she has been breaking her pledge." "How do you know?" "I saw her come out of old Ramsey's rum-shop, licking her chops." Now, do you suppose you can go into the saloon, or into any one of THK cat's 1'I,1;I)«K. m ti i ; I! I! 104 J{E.IE( TED AT TIIK ALTAR. those places ol' icsuii, at eleven o'eloek in tlie inovniiig, and come out wiping your lips, and no one know iinything about it? You may cliew pepi)erinint till you arc sick, and pastils, and all sorts of things to take away the smell of the no: VOr IIAVK DECKIVKI) MK. drink from j^our breath ; but others know wliat you have been at. That odor of alcohol is wonderfully jnnigeut. I heard (and I say this for tlie benefit of the ladies) of a young lady who was eugnged *o be married. Before she gave her consent, she made the young gentleman promise that he would drink no more intoxicating liquor. They stood up before tlu; minister to be married. lie turned his face to her n ADAM'S WIII.SKKV JIM!, 105 lave . I of a to give li(>r his right liiuid, and .she tk'tected the siuell of li(luor in liis breatli. The minister said, ''Wilt thou have tliis man to be thy wedded husband ?" Looking liim right in the face, she said, "No ! "' " Wliy, you eamc here for tliat purpose." "I did." Then she said to the young man, "You have deceived me ; you liavc told me a lie. You said you would not (bink, and I smell it in your breath ; and the pros- jjccts for me, if I become your wife, are so dreadful, that my own safety and future happiness demand that I shall say no." You think no one knows it. It reminds me of a story of a time when we used to call ministers, "dominies;" and in those days dominies liked whiskey. Perliai)s they do not now, but they did then. There was one woman who liad a druid^en husband, and his name was Adam. One day the dominie was to call, and the wife said, "Now, Adam, the whiskey- jug is empty, and you must go down to the store and get it filled ; but do not drink any; don't take the cork out and get to smelling it, for I know what the result will be ; and if you are a good man and a good, dear husband, Adam, and come back perfectly straight, when the dominie is gone 1 will give you a little whiskey." So off he went, but ho was gone a long time. When he came back he was in a terrible state. His hat was smashed all to pieces, his trous- ers' knees broken across, his coat rij)ped, and he himself covered with mud, and in a beastly state. "Well, you have been and gone and done it; you have, liave n't you? You NOW, ADAM. r ijiii D > 111; lii^ 1! 1 ^ 1 '< 1 1 ' ■■ 1 1 } 'i ''. t ! 1. r^ it i m r^: in |/, ■ 1 1 1 1; ]■ 1 1 1 ii j lOG AI)AM\S FALL. are a nice husband to break a woman's heart, you poor, miserable, drunken coot ; can't you come home solicr? Here comes the (.U)minie. I would not tor the world have him know tliat my husband got drunk; I would not have him iind you in this state for the best farm in the county. (Jet into this closet, and draw yourself right up so that I can shut the door, and don't you make the least bit of noise ; if you do, I will be the deatli of you when you come out ; and if you are only per- fectly still till the dominie goes, per- haps 1 Mill give you a little more whis- key." So she crammed Adam intd the closet just as the dominie came in at the door. "Good afternoon, madam." "Good afternoon, dominie." "Well," he said, "I have come to talk about religious subjects. You know how we are all suffering through Adam's fall ? " "Wliy, how did yo find that out?" "j\Iy dear sister," said the dominie, " I don't understand you. You know the whole world is sulfering terribly from the effects of Adam's fall." " Oh, no ; it is not so bad as that, and I liave seen him far worse." " Iveally, my dear sister, T don't understand you ; I tell you that for all generations to come the world will groan through the effects of Adam's fall." " Now," says she, " dominie, you need not tell me another word. I know he has torn his trousers, and T know he has s])lit his coat, and T know he has smashed a new hat all to Adam's return. J STAJITING ON TllK DOWWVAUl) PATH. Ufi pieces, and T know ho is all coveit'd with mud. Adam, you can come out now ; the dominie has I'ound it all out. He knows it!" Ves ; everybody knows it; and suppose they did not, does it depend on their knowledge whether you are ruined or not? Now let me give you another ("aet. People say I have no argument; that I do not usi' logie. NVell, I thaw my argti- ments fruin facts, antl illustrate my arguments />// facts. 1 can s[)eak IVnm a jiersonal knmvledge ol" the facts in the luUowing incident; fori '. ■, ''i^i^^V know one of the parties: A young man went through college with the highest honor ; his record and e h a r a c t e r were clean a n d p u r e. iVbout the time he grad- uated li(! met with a great misfortune in having a legacy left him of forty thousand dollars. "Now," ho said, "before I buckle down to lifo's work, I will see the world." And he did so. lie was of a nervous, susceptible temperament ; he boarded in one of the best liotels, and commenced drinking. I v.ill not follow his course. After he had been there some time, the landlord said to him, " liook here, you and I kiu)W each other; Ave are men of the world, and it is always busi- ness before friendship. Now, you know the kind of house I mean to l;eop. T have lady boarders with me, and they ADAM S KXIT FKOM TUE CLOSKT. ll 'hi ' Hi «/. I 108 I,()\VKU AND I.OWIllf. may be fastidious; but (liat bas notliing to do witli it. Tbey complain of your coming in late at nigli.t and mak- ing a iioiso. Tiiat will not do ; I tliink you bad better iind some otlicr (|uarters. We are friends just tlie sanu! as ever, but I tliink it would be better for us botli if you sliift your quarters." And lie did. Now, young men, Avliere did be go ? Did be go to a more respectable liouse? No; be went to a less respectable bouse. Every step a man takes in tbis course is iloivn, never vj> ; never, never I He uent wbere lie could make a little more noise witbout troubling any- one. Wlien be was too noisy for tbat bouse, tbey ordered liim away. He went to a lower and a lower and a lower place, every step still lower. Eiglit years passed away. He was seated in a grog-sbop, — well, I can bardly describe it, — it was a place wbere tbey kept bunks for men to sleep off tbe drink, and wbere a certain kind of food called "all-sorts soup" was provided for tbem. It Avas a most wretcbed place. He sat on a dilaindated cbair, destitute of linen, witli a wretcbed coat buttoned close up to bis neck ; a greasy cap lay on bis forebead ; bis bair, brown and wavy, was yet ricb and glossy; one foot was naked, tlic otber was tbrust into an old India- rubber sboe. He sat tbere witb bis feet stretcbed f)ut, bis arms folded, asleep and snoring. Several of tbe wretcbed victims of tbis vice were seated around tbe room. Tbe landlord came in. "Look bere! wake up bere ! Wliat arc you doing bore? Wak e m ■ Wbat are you talking to nie in tbis w^ay for?" •I will let you know wbat I talk in tbis way for; get out } " of my bouse "Wbat do you mean ?" "I won't bave you banging round bere any Jonger ; you bave become a (M)mplete nuisance; get out witb you!" I "TOM, OLD FELLOW, IS THIS YOU?" 109 lis y; iii- lis kmI ho 'OU ''Wlial do you talk to inc in this way I'or?" " I will let you know what I inciin if you don't get out." " Don't lay your liiind on mo. 1 tell you, sir, look out before you arouse the devil in n»e. Don't touch mo. What do you talk to mo in this way for? When I lirst came to your house you treated me civilly; you took my money for lic^uor and for treating others; you gave me the uest bunk in your house, and you have often put me to bod when I was drunk. What do you talk to me in this way for, now?" "What do I talk to you in this way for ? Because you are' not the same man you wore when you lirst came here." "•I am not the siiine man, am I? That is true. Don't lay your hand on mo, I say. He says I am not the same man I was when I iirst came to his house. Now, I will go ; you need not put me out ; I will go. lie says I am not the same man I was; I don't look like it, and 1 don't feel like it. Look at mo, and see what you and such as you have made me. I remember when I delivered the salutatory to my class, and now I am a luiisanoe. Now I will go. Good-by." He staggered forth and foil in the gutter. They picked him up and brought him back to the house. The man would not allow him to be brought in, so they put him in a cellar on a heap of straw. They found out who he was, and sent for an old college classmate who was practising as a lawyer in that city. Ho came to him and said : — "Why, Tom, old fellow, is this you?" "Yes, all there is loft of me." " This is bad business, Tom." " Yes, as bad as it could be." " Don't say that, old fellow ; I have come to get you up and take care of you. I am not going to leave you till I get you on your feet again." Ill > I no TllK DKATll OF TO.M. II ■ s "No, it is too late ; I shall lu'Vcr stand on iii\ feet aj;'ain ; I shall (lie where I lie. He says I am not the same man I was, and I will die lieri' ; 1 want to die here; 1 have lu) ilO[H'/' "Why. 'I'oni. don"l talk likt' that, old fellow. Don't yon reau'ndier the q-ood old tinu's?"' " Vi's ; I leiiiendiiT them." " Well, now, just elieer up."* "1 eannot eheer ujt. -lem, -h'm. will yiui kiss nu' ':' "" Tile I'liend turned and [iressed his lips to iIm' Moated I'aee v( the d\ini;' man, who then said. " it is L;'etlin;, (iail<." " lint, I'lUii, Tom, dear t'tdlow, remeuduT lliiii who said, •Come unto me all ye that lal)or and are heaxy-laden." "' '• Too lale. -lem. Don't lea\i'me: don't leave me ! Oh, it is L;('ttiiit;' ilark ; it is n'etlini;' dai'k." Stiaii;hteniiiL;' himsidf up, while eoiividsions shook his iVanu'. he said, •■This is the last aet ol' the play that is jilayed out." and he I'ell luiek dead. Ah I my iVitMKk, it is an awl'nl risk to take a wrong direetion. 'I'hey tell us that eight miU'S from the earth nothing can li\i'. There is death to all animal lil'o only I'ighl miles al)ove US. 'I'ravel eight miles in this diicetimi oi' that, you eimii' to home, and life, and peaee, an that will make or mar ytui. i\Ieii say that, when they lind driid< is injuring them, then they will give it up. V(Uing men, do you know what the appetite for diiuk is'/ (iod forbid ymi ever shouhl know liy your own ex|ierii'nee. f|i mio to 11 tlnit llU'l' IS, ar you. 11, then hat Uh' now liy m I'M y • ' 1 : ' i 1 , il i CHAPTER in. rniEXD OR FOE? — THE DIVIDINO LIN'E — WHERE DO YOU STAND? — SLAVES OF FASHION — LIDICUOUS IN(MDENTS. The Won 1 '• Uiit " — I'oppinj^ tlic C^uestion — Anecdote of Dr. Lawson — A .Slim Coiiiiresation — A Seniiou Tliat Was "Too I'ersonal" — How 3Irs. licininntoii Stootl It— A Duel in tlie Dark — Relreatini^ l')) the Cliinniey — A .Surprise to Hoth Parties — (Jivlnj;' a Reason — Roth Sides of fh(! C^uestion — "Tliree Cheers for Klder r"s Story — The lieason Why — (omieal Excuses iov Dilnkinj^ — (Jrounds for .Suspicion — Letlin^- Down the I'.ars — An l'i,dy Threat — Catehini; the Measles — Drinkiiii; in Society — Sipping in '".Style"' — Fasliit)nalile Dissipation — Siil^' Customs — A Dudierous I'ietiu'e — The Dutchni.an and His Lost "I'oy" — Stoi'y of Ihe Tempted Neirro — A Coveted Pair of Moots — •• The Devil .Says Take "Em" — CJueer Ideas of Faith — "(Joo 1- ness ( ;r.aeious ! Has It ( 'ome to Th.at ? " — Fiuiny Incidents — Forward — (iod Speed the l!ij;lil. F a man lias anything to say against the teini)ei'anoe movement, let hint come l)ol(lly forward and stale it. We have ti right to demaiul of o]iposers their reasons for opposition. I cannot nnder- slaiid the position of that 'a^' '^^''''^ ^^^"^' ^^''^ '^'^■^ ^'^ ^'^' '^^ mi^iiy men do say. " Yotu's i.s a good cause, yon are doing a great deal of good, Mnit, but—." Tiiat word "but" stands in the way of a great many good enterjuises. - But " blocks more good intentions towards the total abstinence movement than any other word. " It is a good cause ; drunkenness is an evil, and I wish you well, but — ."' Now, 113 iT' M il= i if i » 'fl I; I t ,1 . I 114 THAT LITTLE WORD "BUT." v/hat is tlio use of iill this? Does it help us to be told that our cause is a good one, and that they wish us well, "but — ?" Young gentlenuin, what would you think if, when you had paid your addresses to a young lady, had screwed your courage up to the point of popping the ini])or- tant question, and as you stood there in eager expectation to liear the aflirnuitive rejjly, she were to say : " Well, my opinion of you is a very high one; I have regarded you with a great deal of interest ; and my father thinks that your char- acter is irreproachable, that your temper is good, and your position in society is all that I could expect. I wish to return to you my grateful acknowledgments for having selected me as the object of your affection, and I really feel as if I could return the love you have confessed for me, but — ." Now, all these expressions of esteem, admi- ration and respect, onl}' make the sting felt more deeply. I positively would rather hear a man say, "1 don't believe in your principles, and I am ready to give reasons for it," than to hear him say, " It is a good cause, you are doing a great deal of good," and so on. We do not desire to show that you are wrong, but that we aje right. I am reminded of a story told of the late Dr. Lawson, of Selkirk. Walking to Fala on one occasion to assist at the sacrament, he was overtaken by a snowstorm, and souglit shelter in a house by the roadside. The good wife was a bust- ling, clever, kind-hearted wonnin, and, as the storm did not abate with the close of day, she said to the Doctor, supposing from his simple appearance that he was some plain country- man, " Ye seem tae be clean, and, gin ye like, ye can bide tae the mornin'." Supper was prepared, and before retiring to rest the family were gathered for worship. If the husband was the " head " of the house, tiie wife at least seemed to be the " neck " of it, for she read the chapter and led the devo- A SLIM fOXGUEGATlON. 115 II, ot" the light )USt- not Ising |itry- tae Igto |)aiid be )V0- 1 1 tional part of the service. Tn the inoriiliig the Doctor took his departure ; and what was tlie good woniairs siiri)rise, on attending church tliat day, to see the stranger she had k)dged ascend the pulpit and " address the table ! " On the Tues- day following, as the Doctor made his way liome, he called at the house that had sheltered him, and, addressing the mistress, said, " I could not pass the door without again thankin' you for your kind- ness to a stranger; but, oil, woman, 1 lik'd your pray- ers far better than your brose." * We ask you to define your position. If you do not, it will be defined for you in a way you do not expect. One rainy day a man went into church and found no one there but the nunister. " Well," said the nunister, "what am I to do?" "Why, luvach, to be sure! I pay the minister-tax." "You want me to preach a sermon, do you? " " Of course, T came on ])urpose to hear one." "Then take a seat; there's plenty of room." Tie preached a pithy, close, searching sermon, and hit his auditor bard. On going home, he was asked how he liked the sermon. "Oh, I liked it well enough, but it was too personal." People sometimes say, "Were you at the meeting last night?" "Yes." "Did you liear Mr. So-and-So?" "Yes." "Did you notice that gentleman who sat on the platform, liow awfully be got it ? " I was once told of a certain man who • A Scotch (lisli, — a proparatiou of oatmeal. TOO T'EHSOXAL. I 1 1 \\l 116 A DUEL IX TllK 1)A1!K. J* ' 'i j I 1 IH \i ? P i had gained the reputation of not l)eint^^ very particulav in telling the truth; in iact, he was a notorious liar. The min- ister of the ])lace was re(iuested to preach a sermon against the sin of lying. After the sermon — a pretty strong oiie — had been delivered, this man was asked how he liked it. "Like if/ Why, it was iirst-rate, admirable, just the thing A Sl'Iil'IMSK TO liOTIl Dl'El-I.ISTS. that's wanted. T think we ought to raise our minister's salary. I really did enjoy it. but I could n't help wondering liow Mrs. IJemington stood it." Two men were fighting a duel in a very dark room. One of them, who was a very brave man and did not want to slioot, groped all round the room, seeking for some con- veinent plaee to fire liis pistol without the risk of hurting his adversary. At last he felt liimself near the chimney, which he thought was just the place for his purpose, so he fired u^) the chimney, and down tund)led the other man. V .'! BOTH SIDES OF THE QUESTION. 117 in uiu- ;d it. liiiiu; i m Inistov s H:-C One Ivaiit to iiuvting liinmcy, bose, so i-v man. A great many peo[)le think themselves safe up the cliimney. Our teetotal gun is one which will shoot round the corner, it so happens that when anything is said, litted to hit, every one lays it all on somebody else. II' what we say in defence of our cause is the truth, and any m m is hurt by it, the J.ord help him to get his hurt healed. There are onl}^ two sides to this question, and no man can be on both sides at the same time. Many say it is a good cause, and doing much good, and yet throw cold water on our efforts. We like cold water well enough, but do not like it dashed about us in this indiscriminate manner. I wish such individuals would define their position. A gentleman in IMassachusetts, conversing with me at one time on differ- ent topics, at length spoke of temperance. "I wish you all success," said he ; " I believe the cause to be a good one, and likely to confer great and important benefits on societj*." " Have you signed the pledge ? " said I. " Hem — no — no." Said I, " Why not ?" Had he said, "Because I believe it to be wrong," I would have been satisfied; but he gave no reason. A man said to me at another place, '• I shan't sign your pledge." "Why?" "Because I love licjuor." "You are an honest man, give me your hand. I like you ; you have given me a reason which is an honest one, and I believe you." If a man says, " I love liquor and mean to drink," that is a satisfactoiy reason ; it is enough, you do not belong t(j us. We b(.'lieve that total abstinence from all that can intoxi- cate is lawful, is expedient; and that it is good "neither to eat flesh, nor drink Avinc, nor anything whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak." AVe believe it is our duty to adopt the ,irineii)le on these grounds, and there remains only the opposite. AV^ill you adopt it, then? One gentleman says, "I shan't, because I sell liquor, and mean to do it." Well, sir, go over tlu re and take your place. 8 118 THE I)IVII)IX(i LINK. m ir ili I! Atiother says, " 1 sliiin't sign llio pledge. "" You shan't, why not? "Oh, I dislike drunkenness as much as you do, and am much opposed to it; hut the nature of my business leads mo into society, and I occasionally take a social glass." Very well, sir, tluit is enough; go over there. A hidj' says, " I can't." Why not? " Oh, I hate drunkenness ; I des])ise it ; still I can't come to the conclusion to abolish wine entirely. You know tliere are wedding parties and occasions — ." That is enough, go over there. Now, where are you going to place a poor, wretciied, miserable drunkard? With a lace woefully debauched, he comes reeling up. " I shan't." Why not? "Down with all your total abstinence, I say." That is enough, only go over there with the others. We stand on the ground of total abstinence, and you stand against us. That is the line of division. Now, if we are right, if we convince you that we are, will you help ns ? If, on the contrary, you can show us that we are all wrong, and that we have no right to pray and labor for the advancement of the cause, I. for one, will tear my pledge in pieces, and join with you. But while there are those wlio bitterly oppose us, I do not believe there is one reputable jjcrson in all this land who would be so iiduunan as to willingly lift a finger, if, by that simi»le act, he could bring the temperance cause to naught; nor one who would willingly lift a finger, if. by so doing, he could seiul the drunk- ards redeemed by this movement back to a life of wretched- ness and woe, undoing at once all the good our cause lias con- ferred upon them. Why? Because you know in your hearts that abstinence has done a good work, and will yet do more. And we look forward with hearts full of gratitude to God, believing that l)righter days are dawning. Tlie drinking customs of society will yet receive their deatli-blow, and they will be buried with no hope of resurrection. IIOOUAY Foil ELDER (JllAY!" 119 ibor IV my e fxve is one iinuvu cohUI woul'l Ininlv- tched- is coii- litnirts ) more, ■to God, nuking B)W, and ..if If men refuse to define their position, it will bo defined for them, and sometimes in a way they will not relish. Many a man has been (h'iven to take different ground by his posi- tion beincf defined for him. On the borders of Lake Ontario lived a minister named (iray. Those who knew him gen- erally desigmited him by the title of Elder (iray. He was much opposed to the total abstinence movement, sometimes declaring it to be unscriptural, and objecting to it for various other reasons. He went at one time to a temperance meet- ing, a huge one, and the manager of it desired him to ()[)en the meeting with prayer. Elder (iray, however, would not pray, but rose and stated that he had come there to oppose them, to find out the weakness of their })osition, and that he would watch them, believing that their i)osition was unscriptural. iM'ter he had sat down, a noted toper of the place rose, and, taking his almost crowidess hat in his hand, he waved it round his head, exclaiming, "Hooray for Elder Gray! Three cheers for Elder Gray I " Here the position of the minister was defined for him. Elder (iray was extremely offended at tliis, and became ([uite indignant. "Sit down, I tell you," he cried, addressing the man who spoke. Then, throwing suspicious glances at the managers and looking dis^jleased, he said. " I don't understand this." Everybody else understood it. "Have you a pledge here?" he at last interrogated. "Yes," said thev ; and, on its being handed to him, he wrote his name on it. Then he prayed, and it was a wonderful ])rayer for the temperaiu'e movement. This was after lie saw his position defined for him, saw himsell", a minister, occupy- ing such a position, and heard an intoxicated nnin who was witness to his eonduet exclaiming, " Three cheers for Elder Gray I" Thus, if men do not define their position, they sometimes have it defined for them. A gentleman, the cashier of a baidc, once said to me: "I I: 120 TIIK CASIIIEirS STt)KV. ^| i ' was a good temperance man; I drank wine and the ligliler drinks, but I ()])p()sed the use of ardent spirits, and tliouglit I was a very benevolent man indeed. 1 used to talk on tem- perance, and go home and take a glass of wine to cheer me up. A man living opposite to me was in the liabit of getting drunk, and when drunk he was very abusive ; and he had been in jail for it several times. However, I thought 1 would endeavor to reform him. So I said, 'Why don't you join our temjierance society ? ' "'Join what?' "'Our temperance society.' '"Oh, well, I could be just as good a toiaperance man as you are, and as drunk as a fool every night of my life.' " ' Why, how so ? ' '"You drink wine, don't you?' " ' Yes, I do.' '"Well, if I could afford it, I would; I drink whiskey; whiskey is my wine, and wine is your whiski-y.' To use his own exj)ression, 'You drink for the fuddle, and I drink for the fuddle ; you are satisfied with a little, I am not satisfied unless I get a good deal; if I drink one glass, 1 must liave another; you can drink one glass of wine and go about your business, I can't. If I were as well off as you, I might have all my arrangements about me, and be as good a temperance man as you are.' " ' Jiut then our positions are different ; you had better sign the pledge that you will not drink anything that intoxicates.' "'Will you?' "'Well, in my case, you know, it is not at all necessary.' "'Ugh! I knew you wouldn't; you come to me and ask uie to do what you won't do yourself. If I sign the pledge, I must make a sacrifice; you give up nothing; you can sign the pledge and drink wine and the lighter drinks, but I can't INFLUENCK OF EXAMPLE. 121 ighter ouglit 11 tem- per me [etting 10 hud would u joiu man as luskey ; use his rink I'or Isalisiied st have Dut yoiu- ht have licranee liter sign xicates.' jcessavy.' iind ask pledge, lean sign It I can't afford it; don't you think you are a very benevolent man to talk to me i i that way ? ' '"Well, if I sign the pledge that I will not drink any intoxicating liquor at all, will you?' "'Yes, 1 will ; I will dare you to do it?' " We went into the bank ; I wrote a pledge, and both of us signed it. 'Now, don't break it without coming to the bank to tell me that you are going to break it, and then we can both break it together.' 1 saw him two or three days afterwards, and said to liim, ' How do you get along? ' ' Oil,' said he, '1 do not know how y(Ui get along, Mr. Segur, but it is almost death to me; but I ani going to stick to it.' And that is the way 1 saved him. I said to myself, 'If the other nuithod will not save him, I will adopt that which will.' " And I say that no man can exert an inlluence to save his brother unless he adopts the principle which he asks his brother to adopt. A minister of the gospel said to me : "T took my brother with me to a temperance nu^eting, and the result was, he signed the i)ledge and is now a Christian man. But ho said to me: 'lirother, if you had asked me to go to that meeting and had ]iot been an abstainer yourself, had not shown such a respect for the principles there advocated as to adopt them, instead of signing the [iledge I should have laughed at the whole matter; but when you asked me to go to that meeting 1 knew you respected the principles that were advocated there, and ado[)ted them yourself; and when I sat by your side and looked at you, I was convinced that you were right, and I felt that I could not possibly resist, so I gave my name and my intluencc.' " The vicar of a certain parish in Kent once said : " I will tell you why I am an abstainer. I had no influence for good over the drunkards in my parish until I signed the pledge ; w I rl In; < I if f i,. ' I '4 i L 122 A MIM.sTKIi'S TKSTIMON'Y, for it was no use to say to Uumh, '(Id and join tlie temperance society ; go among the teetotalers and sign tlie pledge." I once saw one of my parishioners very niucli intoxicated, and I told him that I was very much ashanuid to sec him in that con- dition, a nuisance to himself and a ilisgrace to the parish. 'Now,' said I, 'why don't you do as I used to do?' IIo looked at me, ami said, ' You kept your wine in VDur cellar, and took it regular (!very day. I takes mine when I gets my wages, once a fortnight, and then perhaps f gets drunk.' 'liut why don't you do as I do now,' said I : '1 ilon't drink wine at all.' 'Not at all, sir?" 'No, I drink no intoxicating licjuor.' 'No? have you signed the pledge ? " ' Yes. I have.' ' Well, sir, if you can give up your wine and your spirits, with all the company you have, I think I can give U}) niv beer, and I ' '" . " . THE MAN AVnO DlilNKS UIXAUSE Will, and he signed the pledge. iik is com). Now for a moment let us look at some of the reasons given for drinking, or some of the excuses for taking a glass. We total abstainers have no excuse or apology to offer for our position of antagonism to the drink. A man once rose in a meeting which I held and said, "I will sign the pledge if you will let me liave a little drop when I want it as a medicine.'' When a man prescribes for sickness so long in advance, I look at him with suspicion. I said, "When the doctor prescribes it you may take it." "But,"' said he, COMMAI- KX< rSKS FOI! DIMNK 1N'<1. 12:1 PI, hs given iss. We for our Isaid, "I I) when I Ik 11 ess so "Wlien said he, '•I (h>ii't want III ^'o 111 i1h( diK'tni' cvciv tiiiic I am sick; I want to take a little when I fcrl I m-cd il ; if vmi will let uu) do that I will join llic society, hcrausi' I lliiid< yon arc doini Tlir. MAV MHO DUINKS r.KCACSi; UK IS IIOT. kill them. Another thinks he needs some- tliiii!! in winter-time because it is so hurtful to drink cold water. Another man is- verv ill ; for eie'htcen vcars lu' has taken th(' same reinet h'- and h(! will go and tr}' a little more of it. Another is toler- ably W(,'ll, but the weather-glass is falling, and the last time- the wind was in that ijuarter it gave him a terrible pain ; he; needs something as a preventive, and he will try it once b more. Th ns leminds nu' 01 the num who wanted some bran( an( 1 wat er, I must have it this morning." he said, '"because 1 am so thirsty, but what makes mc thirsty I do not know, unless it is that I am going to have some salt fish for dinner." One man said he would sign the pledge if they would let hint drink when they washed slice]), that being usually done only oiu;e a year. He took the [)ledge accordingly, and ob- 124 RIDKULOUS CUSTOMS. " I \ 5 r ' tained a sliO('[) wliicli lio kopt in his barn and washed regu- hvily four times a day all the year round, till he washed the ])oor creature nearly to death. I heard a man say that l)ecause he heard a sentiment advanced at a temperance nieetino- that he did not like, lie went home and began drinking again. That was just as silly as the boy that said, "Mother, if you don't give nie a i)enny, I know another boy that's got the measles, and I '11 go and catch 'em." We have to meet with many such contemi)tible excuses for drinking. One obstacle to our success is the tenacity witli which some jiersons cling to the fashionable drinking customs. I know but little of the custom of persons at table "taking wine together,"" though I know enougli to be aware of what it is. It is a silly custom. You smile at a lady and ask her to take wine. She smiles and bows. The waiter then fills her glass and tills yours. Then you take the wineglass in your hand, and smile. Von must smile. Even if you have the toothache very badly, you must smile. It may be an agoniz- ing smile, but ifou inuxt smile. Then she siniles and bows and sips, and you smiU' and bow and sip, then both smile and bow together, and it is all over. NtiW suppose I should ask the lady, " May I take a small piece of bread and butter with you?" She bows and smiles. The waiter gives her a piece of bread and butter, and I take a piece; and she takes her i)ieoe of bread and butter, and smiles and bows and bites; I do the same, and while we both masticate, we smile and bow to- gether. It would be perfectl}' ridiculous, but not more so tlian this custom of drinking and bowing and smiling over a glass of wine, and far less injurious. It does not, and cannot, hurt a man or wonum to eat a small piece of bread and l)utter, but it may do a vast deal of liarm to take a glass of wine. I do not say it will, but it may. Tliere is a risk. l>ut we want men who are (hMiided on this subject; men A COVKTEI) TAIK OF lK)OTS. 125 o-omz- ,s and bow c the rou?" )reiul '('(> of lo tlie \v to- )i'e so )vor a iniot, utter, wine. inoii I who know wliere tlicy are. I remenibor once hearing of a Diitehniaii who k)st his boy. Ho said : "• I h»st my i)oy, and I could not lind liini iiovlicrcs, never. lie runned avay, and I vent after him, anil I looks and looks all rount, and linds Inni on de curbstone, and I feels very pad. I dells him to go home along mit his fader, and he say he vould. I dinks to mineself- ' I got dat poy now.' I look at him, and he look at me, anil den 1 cry, and he cry, and we bote cry. And (W'n I dell him to stood u[i, and he stood nj). And I look him right in de face, and he look me right in de face. and 1 ]iut my arms rount his / neck, and — it vas not him." / '' ' If this course of so-called moderates (binking goes on, then the laiiks of the drunk- ards will be lilled. A id what shall wt> do? Thai .s the ([ues- lion. Kight the drink I Fight it, light it wherever we lind it, light it in the social circle, light it in the dram-shoj), light it at home, and light it abroad. No compromise I I am not one of those wlio believe in compromises. 'I'hese compromises are very curious things. 1 once heard of a negro who was talking with another negro about his expe- rience, and he said, ''Oh, I'm awfully tempted, dreffully tempted." " Well, how are you tempted?" "Oh, Tm tempted to steal, dar's where I'm temjtted — tempted to steal, can't I)K DiailUr, SAV8 "TAKIO 'k.M.' \t' i 12(i A FEAHFIJL EXAMIMJ:. I ii resist. Why. I went iiilu a hoot and shoo stove de odder day. Dere was a haiidsoiae pair of hoots ; haudsoinest pair of hoots I eher s .\v in my Hie. Deni was l)ery expensive hoots, deni was; dehest hoots I eher set my eyes on. An' 1 wanted 'em. Do dehl)il sa^s, • Talie 'e:'i.' De Lawd savs, 'Leave 'em alone.' Now wliat was I going to do? I wanted dem l)oots. Dehhil says, 'Take 'em,' and de Lawd says, 'Let 'em alone.' Dat 's two to one ; wc; is in d'ar majority, an' I don't know what to do. So 1 jes' made a comi)ro- mise wid de Lawd, an' took a chea]) pair of shoes oflanoder shelf, and walk oir wid "(Mn." -A"""^ Some of those peo]i]e who re- gard them- selves as advo- cates of the cause do more liarm than goout wiiat is your business?" "Husincss? I "ni in the temperance business." " In the tomjiorance busi- ness. Why, how in the woild do you make tliat out?" "Why look here: you see I've got a brotlier, and he's a riiK IKAIilL I- KXAMI'l.l- ir i i r. PEOPLE IIAUl) TO PI-EASE. 127 walk u. tliose lo re- icin- ari(LVL, CUUIOI'S, SEUIOUS, AND CItlMINAL, AN1> PEOPLE WHO MAKE THEM — FUNNV STORIES. Various Soiircos of IJluiKlcrs — Heading a l!oy in a Bairi'l — Abst'iit-iniiuled People — Anecdote of J)r. Duiiean — Amusinsj; Incidents— Ministerial IMunders — The Pibroch and the Slogan — The "Coisoned Pup" — Laughable Mistakes — Blunders of the Past — IJlunders of Society — Irish Hulls — Killing a Man Twice— The " Ked Cow" — Connnou Errors — Misuse of Words — Blunders in I,anguage — A Musician witli Carved Legs — neligious Horses — Human Parasites — The Curse of Monnonisni — Serious Blunders — Sowing Dragons' Teeth — Ollice Scidvcrs — How to Secure Honest Legislation — Curious Blunders in Literature — Sacrificing Sense to Bhynie — The Lawyer and the Sailor — Neatly Caught — Funny Blunders — A Viper with Feet — " No. 4."), Stick No Bills"— " Let Her Drop" — Moidliug Angils — Take Your Soundings. Y (lie tonn ''blundeis " I etn- I)riice a wldo range of nieaii- iiio': c'l'i'Di's, mistakes, bulls, and the like. — -an error being ^ a departure or deviation from that wliicli is rii;lit ; mistake, the taking of one thing for iuidlluT: a bliuider being a mistake f)r error of the grossest kind, and general iy eonsidered blamable, usu- ally exposing a jjerson to shame or ridieide; while a bidl is simply a verbal blunder, containing a huighable incongruity of ideas. One source of blunders is the failure to fasten the mind on the business which is immediately in hand. The mechiuiic spoils his work by thinking of something else. A cooper puts his i;!l h ti ^1 i 1^ • El ' ill |i 132 AMI'SING 1N( IDENTS. son inside tlie lnurcl Id IkiM u[) the liead, .iiid finds, wlien he luis linisliod, thai his hoy is headed in llie harrel, witli no wav of escape hut thi'oii<,di tlie Ixuig-liole, — a foolisli blunder. A dentist may extract tlie wrong tooth, ^a stujtid blunder. A physician may i)rescribe the wrong medicine, or a druggist may })ut up the wrong prescription, — criminal blunders. Another source is clironic, permanent, and liabitual absent- mindedness. Dr. Duncan of Ediid)urgh, while iroiuff to a meeting, took out his paper of snuff; the wind blew; lie turned to leeward to take his pinch, forgot that he had turned, \\alked straight away from the meeting, and failed to fulfil his engagement. Another eminent Scotch divine, Dr. Lawson, Avas constantly l)lundering from this cause. He was often so absorbed in his studies as to confound the realities of life with his imagination. Once, he left his lecture-room taking with him a student's hat instead of his own book which he was to cai'ry home. A nut her time he was leaving the liousc with a hidv's Ixmnet on his head, the bonnet liaving been left hanging on a i)eg where his own hat ought to luive been. Once, when Malkiiig in a heavy shower, a friend loaned him an umbrella, which he carefully put under his coat, through fear of wetting it. On one occasi(»n, while in his study, intent on his books, the servant rushed in, exclaim- ing, " Sir. sir. tlu> house is on lire I " 'Ilie Doctor did not intermit his studies for a monient. but simjily said, "Go and tell your mistress. I have no charge of househtild matters, so do not disturb me."" The celebi'atcil Ncandt'r would start from his luuise to his lecture in iiis night-gown, oidy to be brought ))ack l)y his sister. (.)nce, having ]iut one foot in the gutter, he hobbled ahjng the whole length of the street, and. as soon as he reached home, hastily sent for the doc- tor to cure him of his imaginary lameness. Sometimes blunders occur through a sensitive desire to niXTS TO DIFFIDENT PEOrLK. 133 I lire to avoid them. If, in carrying a pan of water, you spill tlie liquid on one side, you are almost certain to spill it on the other. In rolling ten-pius, if you roll your ball off the alley on one side, at the next roll it is almost sure to go off on the other. A diftident person who has l)een studying and posiug for appearance at ', ' ,^;"^~- <' ^ ■ the coming party, ,:t ' ■ i , ; W^R- ; !,• is almost certain to make a succes- sion of blunders in the effort to be easy and graceful. The orator who is over anxious f(n' appearances. ap[n'opriate ges- tures, or the very precise modula- tions of his voice, is apt to become artificial, and is almost sui'e to blunder either by an inappropriate gesture, or by crying nt the wrong time. A si)eaker should not be striving for pretty sentences or obedi- ence to certain rules. Bunyan would have blundered into the Slough of Despond, and stayed there, if he had aimed to write prettily rather than vigorously ami usefully. An orator is the least a[)t to blunder who is natural, who has something to say, and says it. e sikI sikI the iioLSK IS ON fire!" f 'I I ' ' ; I if ' I ; i :i ! ! 1 I: l!t Mi ; t ( ;■'! i;u THE "COISONED PUP." I^udicrous bliuulers urisc in attempting to coi-reet tliem. A clergyman, using as an illustration the scene at Lucknow where Jessie Brown cries out, " Dinna ye hear it, tlie pi- broch and the slogan?" said, "Dinna ye liear it, tlie pigan and the shibrocli ? " A friend told him of his bluniler, and lie, wishing to be correct, took occasion at the evening service to say: "I have been informed that I said in the morning sermon, 'the })igan and the slobroch ; ' I intended saying, ' the slobroch and the pigan.' Receive the blessing." One minister could never say, "Sweet for bitter, and bitter for sweet;" but, in his nervous efforts to be correct, invariably rej)eated, " Switter for beet, and beet for swilter." Macready tells of an actor who, in rendeiing the words, " The poisoned cup," constantly said, "the coisoned i>np," to the great delight of his audiences. On one occasion he rendered it correctly. Instantly there was an uproar, and he was not permitted to proceed till he had given " the coisoned pup," and was rewarded with shouts of ai)plause. While innocent and most amusing blunders are constantly occurring, giving occasion for merriment and making whole- some changes of thought and feeling from grave to gay, there are also many that take hold on our deepest life. Often, just the thought of them sweeps off the foam from the waves of our daily experience, and compels us to note the tremendous under-roll of blunders that shift our barks, yours and mine, from crest of wave to trough of sea on the ocean of our lives. Now, if the cargo we carry is more precious than gold, is it not of grave consequence that we make no mis- takes in our navigation ? Have we blundered in the past ? Yes. For many years, great sections tried to believe, and to crowd all others to admit, the doctrine that some of the races had no rights that others were bound to respect. For years a sleepless endeavor DIHEFUL RESULTS OF A nUTNDER. 13r) ttantly ivliole- L there |ii, just ves of lulous mine, f our than iiiis- lyears, lers to Is that leavor was made to bemi and twist ah social, and or^janized, and le<'ishitive life to the justilicatiun and protection of this infa- mous doctrine. For many years, only a few heard a voice say- ing, "Shall not I visit for these things?" Even the holiest things and the holiest book were fiercely held and bent and twisted, too, to make them justify this doctrine. " What came of it ? " You remember the hour when there was a iiigh and resistless interference with our blind, cowardly, and wicked treaties with the great wrong of slavery, and half a million lives were the direct victims, a million more, less direct, and the heavy burdens laid on us for many years to come showed to the world the awful blunder we had made. Now, shall we let other seeds, noxious and baleful, grow and spread and multiply a myriadfold, while we sleep as we did, when the moral sense of the nation was drugged, in the mat- ter of slavery? In what a condition are masses of the children of this nation ? The mortality of children in poor localities in large cities reveals a fearful blunder of society in its neglect of these pitiable objects. Six hundred and forty- eight of these little ones died under five years of age in one week in the city of New York. At that rate, in one month two per cent of all the children in that city would be swept away. We are apt to call all blunders that arise from the misuse of words, bulls; and most of these we attribute to the Irish. Miss Edgeworth, in her essay on Irish bulls, observes that it never yet has been decided what it is that constitutes a bull. The Duke of Argyll says that the definition she means is not the detniition of a bull, but the definition of that kind of bull supposed to be especially Irish, and she gives an illustra- tion : " When I first saw you, I thought it was you, but now I see it is your brother." Carleton, in his " Traits of the Irish Peasantry," says that Miss Edgeworth wrote an essay ilinn^ 186 lUI.LS OF VAHIOUS NATIONS. h I ' II 5 It ' ; I on that which (h)os not, iiiid never did, exist ; and he further SJiys that the source of this error in reference to Irish bulls is in the fact that tlieir langnarre is in a transition state, the English tongiu' gradually superseding the Irish, and their blunders are the result of the use of a langiuige tliev do not fully understand. VVe tind ludicrous blundering by the French and (Jcnnans when learning another liinguagc, such as, '"My boy l»it himself niit a little dog," etc. ; but there is a neatness and complete- ness of confusion in an Irish bull which is inimitable and unapproachnble, and which constitutes at once its huuKU- and its innocence. The bul's of other natitms have the absurdity without the fun. The jiure bull is the contra- diction in terms, the assertion of something which is denied in the very terms of tlu; as- sertion, or the denial ol' some- thing which is asserted in the terms of tlie deni;il, some- A hat was p.assed around to lect a shilling from each person at a meeting; the dear counted the money exclaimed. " Here 's n shilling si . no put it in?" A lady wrote to her friend. "I met you this morning, and you didn't come; I'll meet you to-morrow morning whether you come or not." A man remarked to his friend, "If I had stayed in that climate till now, I'd have been dead two years ago." His friend remarked, "Ah, if I oidy knew whore people never died, I'd end my days A SlIlI.I,lX(i SIU)1M. times apparently obscure. • ENCa.lSII BULLS. 1:57 lliis row ked I'd All, lays -7^ I tliere." One said, '• I see ii(t reason why women should not become medical men." During the Irish rebellion, some ol' the insurgents, being very angry at a banker, determined to ruin him. They collected all his bank notes and destroyed tliem, thus making his fortune. An Irish papier published I ills item: "A deal' man named TalT was run dctwn by a [)assenger-train, and killed on Wednesday. He was injured in u similar way about a year ago." I will dismiss the Irisii bulls by a story that was told me in Ireland. An Irish gen- tlenuui was entertained i)y a party of Knglislimeii at a hotel in a certain town in Kngland, and the conversation turned on Irish bulls, and the Irish gentleman, being a little nettled, said: " IJulls, bulls, what are you bothering me about bulls for? You can't talk about an Irishnum without speaking ol' a bull. You have as many bulls in England as we. In Eng- land you are bull-headed, and bull-tempered, and bull-necked : you are John Bull; you are bull all over. Now, you can't put up a sign on a public-house without sticking up a bull. In the very street where we are sitting now, there are six public-houses with signs of bulls." "Oh, no," said one of the gentlemen, "not so many as that." "Hut I tell you there are, just so nuuiy." "No, we have counted them, and we know there are not six." "Well, I will wager the din- ner for the company in the same place wliere we are sitting now that there are six public-houses with signs of bulls on them." "Very well, let 's hear them." " There is the White Bull, that "s one ; the Black Bull is two ; the Brown Bull is three; the Spotted Bull is four; the Pied Bull is five, — ." "Ah, that's all, that's all." "No, there's another one." "Ah, but we know better." "I tell you there's another one. Black, white, brown, spotted, ])ied, and there 's the Red Cow." " Ila, ha ! That 's an Irisli bull." " Very well, if the Red ('ow is an Irish bull, that makes six, and I 've won my wagei-." w ._.^- ^ 1 iWI ^ li 1 t ; \ ^ 138 EVEUYDAY BLUXDEUS. V Nuw, we niiike as iniiiiy blunders in language as tlie Irish. We say, wo shell peas when we unshell theui ; we husk eoru when we unhusk it; we dust the furniture wlien we undust it; we skin a I'alf when we unskin it; we weed a garden when we uuwced it; we unbend when we bend; we boil the kettle, ete. I onee saw a notice on a ferry boat, ••' Persons are recjuested not to leave the boat until made fast to the dock." \ man, in de- fence of t((bacco, said : ••There's my father, lie ^ s in o k e s a n d chews, and he is eighty years old." " Ah," said his oj)j)o- nent, " if he had not used tobac- co, lie might have been nine- ty by this time." A col o r e d [)reaeher said: ''There will b(! a fo' days' meet- ing every right ni'xt week except Wednesday afternoon." A woman, rebuking lier two boys, said: "Now, if you don't (init, I '11 tell both your fathers." I heard a person say of his neighbor, "lie died and made a will." A woman fell into a well, and said: "If it had not been for Providence and another woman, I should never have got out." During an i() KAVs mi;i:ti.N(j. NATIONAL BLUNUKHS. 139 I'l"'- luul tbac- lilU!- IIIS Ito il iUK ail opidoiuic, a man said : "'riieie are a great many people dying this year, ulio lu-vcr died berure." A minister announeed, ""A young woman died suddenly last Sabbatli while I was preaehing in a state of beastly intoxieation." IJlunthns in atlveitisements are illiniitabh^ "All jiersons in this town owning dogs shall be muzzled." "Wanted: Two ai)i)ren- tiees who will be treated as one of the family/' "Lost: a large lady's beatl bag." "To be sold: a juano-forte, the property of a musieian with earved legs." An advertise- ment of a washiiig-maehine coiiuiit'iu'ed, " I^veiy man his own washerwoman." In a western papi'r, a person advertised for a young man to talu; care of a pair of horses of a religious turn t)f mind. Then there are blunders of omission and eoin- missioii in legislation that have their eauses away baek in the plaees where men vo(e heedlessly and earelessly, when ster- ling iioiu'sty and an upright eonseience are ignored in a can- didate, and some plausible Air. My-ends gets the great power to legislate. Wiiy is it that while the legislator, the repre- sentative of the people, should be, like Ciesar's wife, above suspicion, there should be the curl of the lip, the uiispolvcn sneer, the shrug of the shoulders, and the eonteiiij)tuous word at the congressman? Vet tiicre is, even among some thoughtful and wise men. Surely this is not because the average congressman, assemblyman or representative lias made his place shining with steadfast virtue; not because every vote and every speech and all his reileetion of liimself in character and life is a high wall of smooth roek on which no lobbyist could eliinb, no ].arasite of an (.tliee-seeker could fasten himself? No, but there has been smdi trickery, false- hood, inibc ry, and self-seeking fasteiuMl oi I so many members such lack of principle, such mean truckling to the veriest ragamnllin or rowdy for his vote, that, like the dead Hies in the ointment of the apotiiecary, they have injured tiio repu- 140 OUU NATION'S DISGIIACE. i S ! '• tation of the whole body of legishitors. When this is tlie case, somebody has bluudeied fearfully. Ought not sucli blunders to be charged to the electors, who fail to remember that it is righteousness that exalts a nation ; who fail to remember that when any people "establish iniqnity by law," even in their material luxury and prosperity, there is cause for alarm. Of this, the careful reader t)f history all down the ages can be assured, not even the nnlinished histories falsifying this truth. Think you, if the voters who send men to Congress had been faithful to their high privilege, that the huge moral ulcer at Salt Lake City could still continue to spread in si)ite of all the efforts by Congress to supjuess the abomination ? I was once asked bv a "cntlenian if 1 had ever read the life of Madame Du Bairy, and he advised me if I had not, to read it. I think 1 never read of such awful depravity and wickedness as that record of the reign of Louis XV. It was loathsome and disgusting, yet from reliable sources of inhn'- mation we gather facts in our own land more terrible and more abominable than any that were ever recorded of Louis XV., or of any other monarch. In a letter I received from a minister of the gospel residing at Salt Lake City, he states that a couple came to him to be married legally, and he found that the woman had five living husbands, each one of them se[)arated from her by the will of the chief man of this odious system ; and there were other statements too abom- inable for print. What a tremendous menace to all justice ano purity and truth are the secret, oath-bound, extra-judicial organizations, where the free air of public discussion and conunent cannot blow through, nor over, nor under, their principles and doings I Can a blunder like this be anything l)nt a sowing of dragons' teeth broadcast in this land, and are not the recruits a iliites Id lie lie of this Iboni- and lions, iniot and gof [uits THE CURSE OF OFFICE-SEEKING. 141 i of this great army of wronged and cheated women, and duped and brutal men brought from your vicinity and mine? You say it is only the ignorant that are led astray. But are not the ignorant and misled entitled to all the protection that the intelligent and clear-sighted can give? Then let us shun the blunder that narrows knowledge and cultuie to the peo[)le, and puts a hook in their nostrils for them to be led only as the crafty few would dictate ; and let us elect sucli men to places of legislative power as will remember that it is not a party, or an olliee, or a hierarch, but righteousness that exalteth a nation. What a pitiful sight, in a Christian land, .'ire men standing before their fellow-citizens, ajipealing to the basest motives of the base, the vilest passions of the vile, taking advantage of the ignorance of the ignorant, fawning on the lowest, full of lies and all deceit, for what? For office, where they may plunder those who send them. Oh, is it not pitiful to see men so rabid with the madness for office that, to gain it, they would thrust the Bible from our common schools, and tread on the open jiage of the desecrated Scriptures to gain place? IIow we are fallen since Kufus C-hoate littered these memorable words in New fork City, "What! Banish the Bible from our schools? Never, Avhile there is a piece of Plymouth Rock left large enough to make a guu-tlint of." Yes, we have men who owe their position to-day, and the ability to stand where they do, to tlie education received in our common schools, who would demolish the system that has made them, and make our magnificent institution of free education which has been, and is, the admiration of tlie world, a tiling of the past, just to lift themselves to place and power. I declare that any man who dares to lift hand or voice against that free common- scliool system wliich is the glory of our country, either to sustain Mormonism, or for the sake of a vote, or at the bid- 4 i> ^ 142 PlilVATE AND PUBLIC HONESTY. t! ,■ f ; ilH i 1 j i 1 ding of a priestliood, is guilty of treason to his country, treason against humanity, treason against God. Thank God, there are unstained names and well-equipped minds in whom honor and truth are regnant, who honor public ofllice ; but such do not often seek it, the office must seek them if it secures their services. Would that the day might come when for a man to seek public office from dishonorable motives, or for merely selfish ends, would be to secure liis prompt rejection. Then, again, there are people who scrupulously discharge every real debt, and are even generous and liberal, yet who have no scruple against practising some petty fraud on the })ublic revenue. Private interests are regarded, while the public interests are set at naught. Very respect- able people get into the habit of dealing with the State as they would not with one another. Is not every man's duty to the commonwealth as high, to say the least, as his duty to anyone member of that commonwealth? Is it really pure patriotism to rush with a crowd at a trumpet's call in defence of your country, to march with the beat of drum and thrill- ing music, while a nation looks on with sympathy and praise, and then to cut the very sinews of defence by cheating the revenue, adding to the heavy mountain load of obliga- tion under which we are staggering ? So it is with corpo- rations. Many a man and woman who would scorn a mean act towards an individual would steal a ride on a rail- road, and swindle a corporation without shame or remorse. Can you expect a fountain to rise higher than its source? Will you find in the halls of Congress or in the State House a higher honesty in dealing with great public interests than you practise when dealing yourself with the Commonwealth? Cheat a corporation, defraud the State, and boast of it before your boy, or let iiim hear of it; and do you know that you LITERARY BLUNDERS. 143 ijiiga- 3orpo- iineun ruil- liorse. Mice? louse than lilth? ifore you ; ' ^ may be training your State senator, your congressman, to rob the public treasury, and bring just disgrace on your name, possibly in this quick-ripening age before your own ears are past hearing of it? Would not that be a blunder to repent of too late? There are very curious blunders in literature. I suppose Hyron sacrificed sense to rliyme when he wrote, ''I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, a palace and a prison on each hand." And Allan Cunningham, in the " Mariners' Song," blundered as Dibdin never would have done, when he wrote of the " Wet sheot and the flowing sea," forgetting that a nautical sheet is not a sail, but a rope. A celebrated lawyer was once neatly caught in a blunder in cross-ques- tioning a sailor in reference to the position of the ship at the time a certain occurence took place. " Now, sir, where was your ship at that time?" "Well, sir, we v/ere just on the line." "In what latitude?" "Eh, what?" " I ask you in what latitude were you ? " " Ha, ha I ho, ho ! " " What are you laughing at? I ask you again, in what latitude were you at the time?" "Now do you mean it, or are you joking?" "I am not joking, iind I ask you to answer my question." " Well, you 're a pretty lawyer not to know that there ain't no latitude at the e([uator." Many funny blunders occur from false orthography and false construction ; many of us receive letters that are laughable from this cause. I received a letter from a young professor, recjuesting aid in starting a classical school, and there were several blunders in spelling in the communi- cation. A speaker said in commendation of the judiciary that "our judges do not sit like marble statues to be wafted about by every idle breeze." I once heard a speaker in England say, "Wo will march forth with our axes on our shoulders, and iiloiigh the mighty deep so that our gallant 144 GllANDlI.OQUENT PEOPLE. M 1 I ( IK i ' ship sliiill sail gloriously over the laud."' An Eiiglisli counsel said with regard to the defendant, "Until that vii)er put his toot among them." A lawyer said, ''My client lives from liand to n\outh, like the birds of the air." Another said. " We shall knock the hydra-head of faction a rap on the knuckles." A member of Congress is reported to have commenced a speech with, "Mr. Speaker, the gener- ality of mankind in gen- eral is disposed to exer- cise oppression on the generality of mankind in g II!K.N( IIMAN. '4 •1 COMICALITIES IX THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL. 145 WilS in 1111- on ■cl; to ty, en, Icr My after they crossed the Red Sea ? " One boy sliouted out, " I l^uess they dried theirselves." A teacher endeavoring to iUustrate a point, said, '' Now, if I ignite a match, and care- fully place it over the gas-burner, why do I not get a light? Why does not the gas burn?'' A boy said, "Because you have not paid your gas bill." "Now, boys," said a teacher, " I want you to be so still that you can hear a pin drop ; n o w, (juiet — liush — listen." At that nionient a small boy squeaked oat, " Let iicr drop." All burst out laughing, and the teachei' lost control of them. A teacher asked the scholars in his class wliy it was that if the angels had wings they needed a lad- der to ascend and descend in Jacob's dream, and re- ceived from a little boy the suggestion that per- Iiajts they were moulting. Lord Shaftesbury once asked a little girl, "Now, my little girl who made your vile body?" and received this reply, " Betsy Jones made the body, and I made the skirt myself." " What 's a miracle?" " Dunno." " Well, if the sun were to shine in the middle of the night, what would you say it was ? " " The iikmui." " Rut if you were told it was the sun, what would you say it was?" "A lie." "I don't tell lies; suppose T told you it was the sun, what would you RET8Y JONES. m 146 PRECOCIOUS CHILDREN. say then?" "Tliatyt.u were drank.' "Now, Jenny Wells, can you tell nie what is meant by a niiracle ? " " Yes, teacher, mother says if you don't marry the new parson, it ■vill be a miracle." We often blunder in forgetting the precocity of children, and are often mortilied at their re])etition of some remarli that we have been imprudent enough to make in their pres- ence. A little girl once asked a gentleman caller, "Who lives next door to you?" "Why, my little dear?" "Oh, 'cause my mother said you was next door to a fool." A couple of visitors asked a child, "Did you tell your mamma we had called ? " " Yes." " And what did she say ? " " She said, 'botherl'" "Well, Master Fred, you don't know who 1 am." "Oh, but I do, though, you're the chaj) ma says would be such a catch for our IMary." Young men, yes, middle-aged, ohl men and women, too, take a glance back at the way you have como, take your soundings. The ship that takes no soundings finds no safety. Can vou not recall blunders for which you have i)aid, and are paying, the peiuilty? All wrong-doing is a blunder. The righteous are wise, the wicked are foolish. Have you not committed blunders tliat have caused you sleepless nights and sad wakeful hours, bitter regrets, the pangs of remorse, the terrible consciousness of transgression, and the dread forebodings of the consequences, the reaping of the sowing? Will yaw not repair the blunders and bring peace to your soul? You can, if you will. How many to-daj^ look with tearful eyes, but with a glad heart, on blunders rectified. True, there was a hard struggle, but the victor}' was won by perseverance, and what a glorious victory I Young men, when tlie younger son demanded of his father his portion, he made a blunder. When he spent his sub- stance in riotous living he still blundered; continuing his THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 147 II, too, ! your afety. I are The I not iglits uorse, bead Wlllg? your with tified. won erratic coiuse, he spent all, and was leducsd tc living on husks. All the coni})anions of his free life had deserted hiui, and he was left alone with the swine. He was in a pitiable condition ; and when conscience, not quite dead, and the good spirit that God never wholly takes from us till the measure of iniquity is full, moved on his stricken heart, had he resisted these, it would have been the most perilous blunder of all; but he said within himself, '' I will arise and go to my father," a noble resolve, and his father met him, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. The lost was found, the dead was alive. To depart was a blunder, the return was no blunder; will you not prove it so? Some may say this is no place to advocate religious truth, but I ask you, is not the most important question with us all. How is it be- tween me and my Maker? Is it well with us? Should we not seek the highest enjoyment we are capable of, the most perfect safety, the most useful living? When we conform our wills to the will of the unchangeable, when our whole being is penetrated by the sacred influence of Christianity, it is filled with a sublimity that time or change cannot im- pair. Our lives will not then be barren of good results. This is the spirit that sees the end of all temptation, the rectifying of all blunders. It gives quietness of heart under every solicitude, there is no darkness or desolation which it cannot brighten, no gloom it cannot dispel. It has no fear, no wavering, no despondency. It is ever constant, ever cheerful, in all trials, distresses, and conflicts of life, it is a never-failing helper and comforter, and in its hands are the keys of the kingdom of heaven. father sub- g his r H r:i !-■ I \ 'i ,.r .il ] ;■ 1 ; 1 i ' \ 1 1 1 1 .1 .1- i 1 I! CHAPTER V. KKTRIBUTIOX — PLAIN TALK AND IT.AINEIl P'ACTS — REMI- N1SCE^'CES OF MV DAItIv DAYS — DELI KI I'M TUEMENS. I'lain Talk to a Soott-h Aiulienoe — IStreot .Sights and Scenes A f tor Dark — Wrctcht'dncss and Woe — "Jem, Is My John in Tli — ]iu<'kle On the Armoi'. () earnest or iiiU'Uigeiit man can deny that drunkenness is tlie curse of the two great nations, tlic I'nited States and Groiit Uritain. And those wlio h)ve tlieir conn- • ^ ^MBj ^^M^ S^^. V'^^'*^6r ^^'.^' ''^"*^ "■'^ most desirous ^*"^^^^^'^^^^^"''^ for its l)est interests and welfaie, arc among those who mourn most over tliis terrible evil. I do ^"^ not moan "rabid teetotalers." Your judges, statcmen, magistrates, law- yers, the very best and most intelligent men in the commu- nity, are ready to acknowledge that this is a terrible curse, which, if not checked, will sap the very vitals of this nation. I once Siiid in Scotland, "This is a land of Sabbatlis, a 148 PLAIN TALK. 140 States And couii- sii'ous and iiourn I do Youv law- [nimu- urse, tion. hs, a land of Bibles, a land of gospel privileges, of liberty as great as we enjoy in Anieriea, a land of martyrs who counted it not loss to shed their blood on the moors and mountain sides, the land of Cameron, the land of (iuthrie, the land of Knox, the land of heroes, — of Wallace and of Bruce. Oh, how you have degenerated, and become the most drunken people in the world ! " I know very well that this is plain talk, but we must have plain talk on this subject. It seems to mc sometimes that there is a frightful significance in the story that is told of a little Russian boy, who had such wonderful powers of imitation. lie would walk along, perfectl}' impas- sive, with a stolid face, and carrying a pii)e in his moutii. The onlookers would shout, " Turk! Turk! " Then he would suddenly change his attitude, and start forward, with a (|uick, light step, anil tliose about him would cry, " Frenchman ! Frenchman ! " But when he came before them reeling aiul staggering, they called out, " Englishman ! Englishman ! " Let any man go through the streets of our large cities at night, and note the sights and scenes that meet the eye in connection with the drinking system, — T mean, of course, an intelligent and sober man. If you start witii us on such a tour of exploratit)n, go without your little drop of beer or your glass of wine, that you may see clearly. Is it characteristic of Anglo-Saxons to be brutal? Is it characteristic of Englishmen to be brutal? Why, there is not a nation on the face of this globe with a larger or more sympathetic heart beating for t'^e woes, sorrows, and suffer- ings of others than the English. All foreign visitors, such as Guizot and Montalambert, are struck with the magnificent charity of England. Guizot speaks of it as a charity "deep, comprehensive, sincere, and searching; a charity which, in the language of the apostle, covers a multitude of sins.' Let there be a cry for help, through any disaster upon the river 10 ir 150 ri:A( TICAL hVMl'ATIlV. Il ii a I i]i H l> ■ ■ ! or in the coal mines; liow iniickly coinos the response! After the dreiidfiil disuster on (lie 'rhunies, when the "Princess Alice " was wrecked, and hundreds of lives lost, over c£9(),000 sterling were collected in various [ilaces, and from all classes, in sums ranging from XlOO, from the rich nuin, down to a penny from the workingman and a halfpenny from the boot- black. Let there be a ciy for help from India, from China, from .hii)an, yes, and we say it giatefully, from the United States, and how prompt they are to reply I I was in Cliicago just after the great fire, and I rode thu)ngh ruins covering an area five miles in length by half to three quarters of a mile in breadth. A hundred acres an hour were consumed for twenty-four hours, and Ihe peojile sat mourning in dust and smoke and ashes, shedding bitter and unavailing tears. I very well remombor when the despatch came from England, by cable, "Draw on us, in London, for ,£10,000;" how it encouraged and comforted us. To be sure, we were doing all we could. The very workmen wore giving one day's work, and one little fellow stuck up a notice, " Black your boots for twenty cents to-day, for Chicago;" and he sent twenty -three dollars to the fire fund. riii; i.irn.K i'iiii.a.n riiiioi'i.sT. 1 THE DOINGS OF DUINK. If)! ! After Piiiiccsa JC 1)0,000 1 classes, )\vii to a the boot- in China, yes, and :ratefully, United 1(1 how y are to I Chicago ! great lire, 3 thvdugh ng an area length by e (][narter8 1 breadth, acres an consnnied ur honrs, eople sat dust and tears. I England, " how it ere doing )ne day's ack your he sent It is characteristic of Anglo-Saxons to be generous, sym- pathetic, manly ; it is not natural for tliem to be brutal and cowardly. Now let us for a monu plate the doings of drink, through the columns of newsi)aj)ers you will he as the record of brutality. Tii umn in the "Al- liance Weekly News," givuig the doings of drink, and the catalogue is ap- palling. A wo- man went to a public house door, ragged and wretched, her thin gown draggled with dirt; two chil- dren were by her side, hold- ing her dress. She stood at the door. A man came out "Yes, ma'am." A UKUTE IN HUMAN FORM. She said, "Jem, is my John in there?" "Tell him I want to see liim." He came out, an Englishm m. " What do you want?" "I want you to come home ; tho fire is out, we have no candle, we have not a bit of bread, and the children are crying because they are hungry." Wliat did this husband and father do? He 152 COWARDICE AND JJKAVKUV. i| til fi: I struck the pooi-, wan creature a fearful hlciw in tlu; mouth, and sent her reeling into the gutter ; and, shaking his silver in his pocket, went into the public-house to enjoy himself jigain. The poor wife staggered up, wi[)ed the blood from her faee, and with her children j)assed down the street. Is that characteristic of an Englishman? Siiow nu' an English- man, or an\' other man in a civilized count r}', who, apart from dritdc, will do that, and I will show you a mean, contemptible coward and monster. A nii^n that will strike a woman is a coward ; and if he is drunk, it is the drink which makes him a coward. If the man is sober •"id his wife annoys him, whatever the provoca- tion, however long her tongue may b(\ however irritalincf she is — and they can be awfully irritating sonudimes — if she makes his liouse a perfect hell for him, if he cannot stand it, let him act like a man and run away. If I saw a man running through the streets, ami a woman after hini, I should say, "You are a brave fellow, go it." But the moment he should turn rountl ami strike the wonuui, I would say, "Ah, you are a coward." I could give you iiu'ichuit after iiu;idcnt illustrating the brutality caused by drink. There Avas an account in the newspaper of a man beating a woman to death with a pair of tongs, beating the life out of her. lie was sentenced to one year's imi)risonment. Slianu' that life should be so cheap I Another case: A man went honu> druidc. A little child, two years old, was crying. He said, "Stop your crying." The little creature only knew that she was fiight- ened and terrified, and she cried on. Wliat did the father do ? Took up that baby, his own little girl, two years old, und laid it on the lire. Can you show me a man in the world who would be guilty of such horrible brutalit-y as that, except when he was drunk? A lunatic would scarcely do A I'KliSONAI. EXrEKlEM-'E. 153 mouth, s silver liimself jcl from •cot. Is English- art from L'tHJltiblo if lie is ir the pvovoca- irritatiiig imes — if cannot " I saw a ftcr him, But the omau, 1 it m the Lh a pair cnced to ~|(l be so A little lOp your IS fright- lio father lears old, In in the us that, Ircely <-lo it. It is only the madness caused by driidc that produces such results. One night 1 went on an exploring expedition in the streets, and met a forlorn man, bare-footed, with ragged trousers, a shabby jacket buttoned over his chest, and an old cap on his head. I said (o him, "You are hard up." "Yes, I am as hard up as I can be." "Now," I said, "If I give you some money, will you spend it for driidc?" "Oh," lie said, " I have liad enough of driidv." I saiil : " You look as if you had. Now I am a teetotaler" (by tins time several people had gathered round him, and I thonght it time to be ofl), "I am a teetotaler, and I never knowingly give a penny to be spent in the grog-shop, f think there is enough of the man left in you to give me your word of hoiu)r that if I give you the money, you will get a sui)per and a bed with it." He prondsed. I gave hini the mon(>y, and took him by tlie liand, dirty and ragged as he was, and batle him God speed. Those are the men we call brutes, and east cuit of society. Free them from the intluenee of drink, and many of them naturally Itave hearts as warm as yours, and feelings as temler, and sensibilities as keen, but these are blunted and liardcned by their dissipated course of self-indulgence. Sometimes, alter an exploring tour, I have been almost unable to sleep; I could not dismiss from mv mind the siLrhts and scenes I have witnessed, the inlcrviews I have held with victims of this vice; and I have become so lillcd with enu)- tion that I could not utter the thoughts that burdened nu'. An attemi)t to speak would l)e choked by sobs or would end in tears; my night's rest would be broken i>y dreams of tlie day's experience, or utterly destroyed by llu eonseiousness of my utter helplessness to remedy (m- relii've the nnsery and wretchedness 1 liave seen. When I recall some of those ex- periences and the terrible scenes that iiave excited my deepest J 154 A (;lance at the ta^t. i: I' t H!' sympathy, I often become ins|)ire(l witli a fierce desire to battle anew the canse of so much degradation and rnin. All my symi)athies are enlisted for the intemi)erate man. I can sympathize with him fully, entirely, and I could have said to that poor, forlorn creature that night, "I have been as liard up as you are." On my twenty-fifth birthday I had no hope, no home, no expectation. I walked God's beautiful earth like an unblest spirit wandering over a burning desert, digging deep wells for water to quench my thirst, and bringing xx[) the dry, hot saml, with no human being to love me, no living thing to cling to me. And as I stand to-day with the remembrance of cordiality, courtesy, and kind, warm greetings from scores of friends, standing under the arc of the bow, one base of which rests on the dark days and the other, I trust, on the sunny slopes of Paradise, I realize more and more the awful degradation to which drink brings a man ; and 1 pray God to give me an everlastingly increas- ing capacity to hate with a burning hatred any agency under heaven that can del)ase, degrade, embrute, blast, mildew, scathe, and danui everything that is bright, noble, manly, beautiful, and (Jodlike in a human being, as does the drink when the man becomes addicted to it and yields to the accursed appetite for it. Tlierefore my hand nuist ever be extended to the intemperate man. I ]>i(y a drunkard: he is a suffering man. His physical suffering is no light matter, but it is the smallest portion of the suffering he endures. What is that physical suffering? There is no human being that can understand it, save him wlio has experienced it, and even to him it is a mystery. Did you ever sec a man in ddiriHin tremoiK, biting his tongue until his mouth was fdled with blood, the foam on his lips, the big droi)s upon his brow? Did you ever hear him burst out in blasjihemy which curdled your blood, and i I DELIUIUM TREMENS. 165 desire to iiin. •ate man. • mill have lave been lay I had beautiful ng desert, lirst, and \cr to love nd to-day lud kind, under the : (lays and >, 1 realize ink brings ly increas- ncy under , mildew, e, manly, the drink Is to the t ever be ])hysi(!al nortion ol" (sufloriiig? save him mystery. [)iting his foam on lever hear flood, and I see him beat his face in wild fury? Is it the cramps and pains which wrench his body? Is it tlie physical suffering that seems to rack every sinew in his frame? No, it is deUrium tremena, mania a potu, — a trembling madness, — the most terrible disease that can fasten its fangs on man. Delirium treinenn is a species of insanity. I cannot give the physiology of it, but I know what J know, and that's enough ft)r me. Jt is a species of insanity, but there is a peculiarity about it. I was conversing with a man who had been an inmate of a lunatic asylum for two years, and I asked liim to tell me what lie remembered of his experience during that time. He remend)ered nothing distinctly, and was surprised to find he had been there so long. When a man has suffered delirium tremens^ ask him what he has seen and felt, and he will tell you at once. Kach horror is burnt into his brain, stamped upon his memory in terrible distinctness; and the awful visions of the past come to mock him in his sober moments. Let liis nerves be disturbed, and he imagines that the jinMUonitory symptoms of the horror are again coming upon him. And there is another peculiarity. The man is scared by images, by visions of creo])ing things about and around him. Now if these things were realities, they would not startle him so much. Suppose at night an animal fright- ful in expression and i)roportions was to enter your room with heavy tread, wiiat wmdd ycm do? If it were a reality, you would spring at it, yon would tight with it, and gather iVesh cournge from every resounding blow. You are fighting a timgible thing. Suppose that thing coiiics with soft foot- fall into your room, and you seize a weapon and strike a blow at it. Your weapcm passes through the liorrid thing, and you find it is a jthnntom. You grasp at it, and grasp again, and clutch nothing ; still there is a mocking locdc on i 150 A IIORKIIU.E VISION. h , ! 1,1 m I I 1:1 its frightful face. Dc Quiucy lias said, "•Tii is nutliiiig, for terror and consolation, which surpasses the human face;" and su[)i)ose that iVighful lliing jnoscnts a human counte- nance ! You are not simply frightened, but transfixed with horror. 'J'he skin lills IVom llie scalp to the ankles; your hair stands on end, for you know there is nothing there to light. Men liave been found (h'ad in the attitude of ke(![)ing off some awful image liki' tliis. I once knew a man who was tormented with a human face that glared al him from the wall. He wi[)ed it out, it was there as ])erfect as before. Ill' stood back some paces, and saw it again. IMaddened to desperation, he struck it again and again, until the wall was nuirk(Ml with blood, and a Ixuie of his hand was broken, — all this in beating at a phantom. That is the horror of delirhtm trcmenK. I remember when it stiuck me, — -(iod forgive me that I drank so much as to lead t(» it, although not one half so much in (piantity as sonu> who drank with me and who are moderate di'inkers now. 'J'he lirst glass with me, as I have often lid, was like lire in the blood; the second was as eoncenti'ic rings of lire in tliel)rain; the third made me drunk, and, (Jod help me I I drank enough to bring uj)on me that fearl'ul disease. DcHrliiDi tmni'iis is a terrible disease, and men arc dying from it every day. I saw iKANsi'ixi:!) wrrii noiiitm;. LOSS OF KF.SI'KCTAIHI.ITV. ir,7 uotliiiig, .11 iiice;" couiitc- xod with les; your [ tlHM'C to ktH!i)in,<:f UKUl wlio itetl willi face tliiit liiin from He \vi[i(!d ,vas tluu'o as before. )ack some I saw it (Idcned to , he struck 11(1 again, wall was th l)lood, If of his )i'(iken, — horror ot ic, — there is no dc<:radation or sin in l)Overty. An old eulored servant / was asked (allliongli ^ 1 do not kiHiw why we should call them "colored" peoi)le, for a negro Avas once asked whether he was a colored man, and he said, "No, I was born so ; I never was colored"}, " How do you manage to live in such a smoke?" Wliat did she .say? " Why, honey, I 'se tiiankful to get any- thing to make a snu)ke of." Another poor creature said, when some one talked to her about her sufferings, "Oh. honey, dat is nothing. Don't you know dat is just in de hands of de Lord ? and sometimes He whips us and leaves us to see if we won't work. But, bless your heart, honey, just as THANKFUL roiS SMAI,r, FAVOKS. i^ > illj, 1 i ' 1 .'t ^ k 11 lil ^^ ■ 162 A WIFE'S LOVE. soon as we cries like iv baby, He takes us up and comforta us." We meet with some magiiilicent ex[)eiiences of Christian faith and trust and devotediiess among the poor, I think sometimes more than among the ricli. Poverty does not degrade, but sin does. Everything tiiat defdes tlie spirit is degrading, and tliere is no degradation like that of drunken- ncss, none in this wide world. I know, when we hear of wife-beating and all that kind of thing, we say, '• Men are brutes." They are not brutes. I have worked among them for forty years, and have never found a brute among them. Yet I have found " hard eases." But I attribute most of it to the influence of drink. A man will not beat his wile if he is sober. Oh, is it not i)itiful to hear of beaten wives? What did one of them say the other day? When a gentleman called to see her, her face was bruised and her eye black, and she said, " Yes, he did beat me, but he was in liquor when he did it. lie was drunk when he did it; and this morning he asked my pardon, and before he went out to louk for work he kissed me with his famished lips, and left half a dozen potatoes for myself and the children. God bless him. I would give my life for him to- day." These are the women who are abused and crushed by men, some of them with hearts naturally as warm as yours, and feelings as tender, but debased by the abominable influ- ence of drink. I once heard a speech, and it is a much better one than I can make, and therefore I will repeat it. On one occasion I spoke to an audience of eight hundred of the hardest men I ever came across in my life. If you threw a joke at them it dropped like a stone falling into a bed of mud, chuck ! You could not move them to laughter or tears or anything else. There they sat, as if inquiring, " What are you going to do next ? " All were alike. I sat down very AN ILMTKUATli OltATOU. l»J3 m forts U8." Chiiatiau )r, 1 think Y does not he spirit is f drunken- tliat kind not brutes, have never lard cases." ik. A man it pitiful to ly tlie otlier n* face was lie did beat was drunk pardon, and 10 with his myself and 3 for hiui to- crushed by n as yours, liable inllu- one than I (lie occasion [.he hardest a joke at id of mud, lor tears or I What are down very much discouraged, and the chairman said to nie : " Now, Mr. Gough, if you have no oljjection, 1 should like to ask u man I see in the audience to come on the j)latform. You think tiiese people have no enthusiasm, but you will lind that they liave. You have not yet seen tliem. This man cannot read or write, l)Ut he knows a great deal of the Scriptures, and when lie preaches on the liillside, on the Sabbuth, lie gathers hundreds to hear him. If you have no objection, and would like to hear him, 1 will invite him to s[)eak, and you will see liow lie can move this audience." 1 said, " Objection ? I should be delighted to hear him." So up he came, in fustian jacket and corduroy trousers. He had been in the mine, and liad evidently given himself a s^jlash and a wipe. lie had a good, clear eye, and an honest face. The first thing lie said was : — " How d' ye di), lads? The gentleman axed me to come on tir platform b'cause he thowt ye 'd loike to have a look at me. I hain't no objection to ony man's lookin' at me ; ye may look at me if ye loike. Duiuiot ye see how fat I 'lu agettin'? I doan't drink no beer, neitlier. Look at me. I bean't ashamed. My elbows bean't stickin' out o' my jacket, and my toes bean't stickin' out o' my lioots. I've got a clean sl«irt on, ami I gets one once a wccak ; an' by th' look o' some o' you, ye doairt get one once a month. Ye may look at me if ye loike. I bean't ashamed if ye do. I say, lads, I've made a change. I've changed beer fur bread, an' brandy fur beef, an' I've changed gin fm- gDod dotlios. Thoy 're pretty good uns, though they bean't very stylisli-loike. And I've changed rum fur a ]iai)i)y wife an' a comfortable 'ome. My wife doan't lay no longer on a bundle o' rotten rags, an' call 't a bed ; an' my childer doan't run no longer i' the streets, learnin' devil's tricks ; they goas to school, an' I pays a penny a week fur each on 'em, and they're goin' 1G4 TIIK MlNi;ii\S .SI'KKCII. ■ ^ji ' to be l){!lt('i' oduciited lli;ni llicir dad oven- was. I 've made ii cliaii<;-c'. Yc reinenihcr tli" owil soiij; wc iisi'd losing': — 'Wlii'ii ii ni;iii liiiys licff, In- liiiys bones; When ii 111:111 liiiys iiliiiiis, he Itiiys stoiU's; W'Inii a man luiys Ik"^",'^, lie luiys slirlls; Wlu'ii ii ni:iii buys ilriiik, lu' buys iiolliiiig else' Ain't it true? Ay. lads, that's all true, an' every one o' you knows it;" and tlicy began to sliont, '• Ilunuli, linriali ! " Every one of (liein. Mi :i }-:^ " THK HKX I WAS IIIKFJOWIN' IN." "I doan't wajit yon to 'ollor. I did n't cooni 'ere for any 'ollerinpf. I "11 tell ye wliat T did tlT Inst tliinjjf when I 'd pnt luy name on th' tempcranee jjledrfe. I went wlioam and towd my missns, an' tliat brinlitened her np a bit. Then I took my eliilder on! o" th' ' yoii huvniU ! " 'ere for any [hen 1 'd P"t [whoivni and ,it. Then T It o\it (>' th' lomed 'ouse. I am a "onsekeeiu'f' "^w, I a.n. And then I thowt I must cut a yself, an' 1 did, but 1 '11 never do it again. I got a l.laek i-air c' trousers, a canary-colored w'iiistcoat, an' jacket to nuitch, an' a foine big necktie wi' dots on it, an' then I g<.t a stilY 'at, an' I'll be bUnved if 't warn't a still' un ; un' then 1 strutted up an' d..wn, an' when the people that knowed me afore seed me, blowed if they warn't all pntrified, every one on 'em." Again the audience shouted. " Now, look 'ere, T doan't wiiiil none o' your 'oUering : I want to make this 'ere speech what some of the learned gentlemen call a prac- ticable speech. There's Dick ower there. Dick bobbed his Jiead down when I said. ' Dick.' Everybody knows Dick. He'd share his last crust wi' a brother pitnmu, and lend his tools to his brother workuian if he know'd he'd pawn 'em next day back sixteen hours plekin' coal, and spend t' other eight takkin' keer o" a sick child ut belonged to a neighbor, Dick would. Rut what did Dick bob his head down fur when I said ' Dick ? ' Dick, my lad. you knows me and I knows you. J want to ax you a (piestion. D' ye remember that bitter November night when th' wind was drivin' the sleet through the thick eloas of a man, an' you sent your little lass out, an' she had but one garment on her, an' that was acling- 11 CUTTINO A DASH. I)i( would lie on his I' 'I fi i • • i M« i i 166 AN AITKAL TO TOM. in' to lior baro blue l(><;s \vi' th' wet, anel you sent her \vi' ii bliickiu'-bottlt', an' slio could hardly stand on her bare toes nn' put Ih' blackin'-bottlo on th' counter, an' you sent her wi' a silver sixitence for gin ; an' there was your 'alf- starvi'd wile lyin' on th' lloor, wi' a new-born babe wailin' at her side. Ah, Dick, that was bad. I suy, lads, was 't Dick as turned th' lass t)Ut that nij^ht? No, V ?m« th' cursed drink did that. Down wi" lli" drink, an' up wi' tii' num ! That 's ni\ doctrine. "An' there's Tom there, just such another as Dick. Tom bobbed his head down when I said ' Tom.' Ah, every- body knows him. I want to ax you a (jues- tion, 'J'om. AVhat did you pronuse the lass when }(>u took her from her mother's 'onie? Did n't you ])romise to love her, an' cherish her, an' i>rotect her? Have you done it, Tom? Who gied her th' black eye three weeks since ? Who thrust lier down stairs an' tore her ilesh from lu-r wrist to her elber? An' she covered the ])lace ower wi' her ai»ron, an' towd folks lies to shield you, an' said she tund>led. Ah, that's bad, lads. Was 't Tom as struck a woman? Was 't Tom as threw his wife down tii' stairs? No, 'f ii'ai< th' our»('A drhik as did it. Down with th' drink, an' up wi' the man! That's my doctrine. "I say, lads, do ye want to smooth th' wrinkles out o' j'our wife's face like ye smooth out th' wrinkles in a sheet DKIVEN our INTO TIIK ST(»KM. sent her wi' 1)11 lier bare in' you sent as your 'ulf- be wuilin' at was 't Dick IX til cursed \i i\\ man ! :* "^ ere 's T o in 1 ^uch another '% Pom bobbed 1 )wn wlien 1 m All, cvery- M vs liini. I m you a (jues- m What (lid 1 se tlie lass M ook her from t ■r's 'ome? ■■V I ]ii()mise to ' cherish her, ^'^iio gicd her st her down elher? An' ' towd folks , that's bad, IS 't Tom as fin'st'if (Irhik nan! That's inkles out o' les ill a sheet 1' i 1 , \ 1 1 i - 1 1 i 1 i 1 1; : I V I. ■;' \\ ^ \ It u t A K?:MAKKA15LE sckxe 101) wi' a smootliiiig-iioii ? I have. l*iit your iiainc on the pledge; tliat '11 do il. I say, Dick I Dk-U is t-oining, Dick is coming! Tom, Tom, look here I Ah, thai 's right, Tom. Now, lads, follow a good example." And lil'ty-eiglit men eamc Iramj), tramp, tramp, on the jjlatform. They seized the pen as if it were a pen of iron, and wrote as if they were giaving tlicir names into stone. 'I'liat man did moi*' work in ten minutes than I (M)uld do in tiMi hours, heeause his discourse was adapted to the character of his audience. 'W) the drunkard who has any desii'e to reform, I give my hand. I say to iiini, "My hrother, you can light this battle. Vol; ("AN no it." Sinne [x'ople say, '• 1 can't." So said a poor ei'catiire when he tnok up iiis pen and tried to write, dntj)i)cd it again, and turned away. He took it up again ami said, "If aiivl)i)dy will take the next six weeks I'loiii nu", I will put my name down." Yes, that is it, my man. Vou are afraid of the next six weeks. W(; will stand l»y ynu for the next six weeks. It is a hard strnggh-, I know. Oh. it is t(>rril)le! Vet I say to ymi, my friend and brother, th(> huiger vou fight the smcr is the victory. The longer you hght the less l)ower yoiu' enemy has over you. He is weakeiKMl by every struggle, and you are the stronger. Therefore, it is a sure thing. Then, buckle on the armor, and fight, for victory is certain. 4 g 1 ! ' I* '• 1 I !! 1 f: ^1 CHAPTER VI. "AS A medicine" — A FAIR NAME FOR A FOUL THIN(J — A PRECIOUS SCOUNDREL WITH A FAIR FACE. FiUilt Finders — A Tippling LL.D. — A CIrh'sc .Argiunont — Scene at a Dinner I'arty — Drink as a Medicine — Doctors Who Prescribe Liquor — A Giod Deal and Often — Ett'eets of Alcohol on the Nervous System — Testih>oiiy of Two Thousand Pliysieiaiis — A Distinguished Physician's Opinion — Diseases Produced hy Alcohol — Personal Experience of an Eminent Surgeon — My Own Experience — An Ex<'eedingly Suspicious Mixture — A Coini)ound Fearfully and Wonderfully Made — Extraordi- nary Prescriptions — Mrs. McCarthy's "Noggin of IJam" — IIow the Upholsterer Got Even with the Doctor — A (iood Story — Anecdote of Rev. Mr. Keid — " Ask My Doctor ? " — Sticking to the Sanio Hemcdy for Seven Years — An Otfer to Loan a Thousand Dollars — Chasing a Bubble — My Visit to Werner's Kooni — A Delightful Afternoon — A Musical Feast. () iintdeiatc diiiikors we uj)- peal for liclp. We do not abuse you. We do not tell you that you are worse than the drunkard, and all that /'"^jjlliyi.i^ '-s '1?^^;^^;^ jf ^"'"^ "f thing; and we do He.:_'«fiii;i Kk.v:5^.i y:vs^n. ,|,|( desire to deprive you of a gratification with no reason but our own whim. But we can ask you to give it up, making no demaiid upon you except in the name of our common humanity. Bnt some per- sons find fault with us, and tell us we are unjust in endeav- oring to deprive moderate drinkers of that which is a lawful gratification. A lady friend of mine, who never offers wine, gave a dinner- no UESULTS OF EATlN(i CHEESE. 171 THINd — A JE. — Scene at a ;ribe I.iquor — ons System — ed rhysician's lorience of an ^gly Susi)icious le _ Extraoiili- j^»_Uow the _ Anecdote of imo Konieily for rs — ('liasiiis '>• Afternoon— A a>i-s we II p- \Ve do not do not tell e worse than and uU that and wc do 'prive y f U I- » I ■I ' J 17"J TAKIXG IT "AS A MKDICINE." use of drink, ami, by the jTiaci; of (Jod, I will fight the cheese us heartily as I do tlie drink. I consider it the height of stu- j)i(Uty and nonsense to bring such an argument as thai against us while we are advocating the disuse of intoxicating liquor as a beverage. We do not seek to take it away from you by force; we want you to be made so far acquainted with the evils of driidc j \f\ IJjj^;;^. that, with your heart and soid, and in the exer- cise of large- hearted, self-de- nying benevo- lence, you will give it up for the n((/u: of others. That is tlie grand principle on e base our appeal, is the highest prin- I say, however, ''You tainly let us have 3 a medicine." Yes, dy wo will ; we do not condemn it as a medi- cine; that is, when men really lake it as such. T was once at a dinner-jiarty when a gentleman at table, holding a glass in his hand, said to a lady present. " I assure your ladyship I am personally an abstainer, and am o])posed " — and he swallowed the wine — "to the drinking usages of society; but I take wine by the prescription of my medical man." I thought I would sec how much medicine he took, and before the meat I TAKE IT "as a .MKDKINK." IIVroCHITKAL DRINKEIiS. 173 t tlio clicesc » Qight of stu- fl tliiil against 9 itiiig li(iiior B .'rum you by 'S eel witli the Jl of drink m , with your M t and soul, % in tlic oxcr- 3 of hirge- ■S •Icd, self-de- m ig bcnevo- m 0, you will 9 > it up/c/* the m : of otheri*. H tisthegiiuid 1 nciple on i ? our appoiil. ■ lighest prin- wovcr, "You let us have ieine." Yes, vill ; wo do t as a niedi- '^ I was on CO Iding a glass adyship I am ic swallowtul ; but I tako 1 thought I ire the meat was bronuht on hi' drank three glasses of sherry. 1 did jiot wonder, then, that people lay in their inedicine a pipe at a time, or by so many do7.en bottles. I believe a great deal of this nu'dieine-taking is rank, sheer liypocrisy. It may not be in your ease, but I believe it is in the nuijority of eases. A physicnau onee (old me that some men, whose conscieiu;es eondenui them lor sustaining the driidving eustoms of society, say to (heir iihysician, "■ I feel a li((Ie (mpidity in my system, I tliiidc my digestiv(! organs are not exaelly right, and I thought I would ask if a glass or two of wine W(»uld not, perhaps, promote digest ion ? "' " Well, I don't know but you might take a little, earelnily." " Thaid< you : "' and away he goes, drinking seveia: (inies each day, saying, "I take my wine by the preseription (»f my i)hysieian." Some almost foree (lie doctor to say (hat they may take it. If (he medie;d men, however, were all like a mcdieal man in lUrmingham, there would be less taking it as a medicine. A lady alllieted witii spasms had used intoxicating li(^uor as a remedy, by her doctoi's prescripdon. Having ehaiiged her pliysieian, something else was jjrescribed by the new fine. ''Doe((M'," she sairo l)e rations, istant use tlio nerve that one •eople are injured by drink without being drunkartls. It goes on so (juietly that it is very dilliuult to observe, even. I know alcohol is a most deleterious poison. 1 woidd like to say that a very large number of people in society are dying day by day, poisoned by alcohol, but not supposed to be poisoned >y It. Of diseases produced by alcohol, he states: "There is disease of the liver, which is of very common occurrence, and then from disease of the liver we get disordered conditions of the blood, and consequent upon that we get diseased kidneys, we get a diseased nervous system, we get gout, and we get diseased heart; I hardly know any more potent cause of disease than alcohol, leaving out of view the fact that it is a frequent source of crime of all descriptions." Dr. Benjamin West Richardson, F. 11. S., slated a fact before the same conniiittee, in reference to the fallacy of using alcoliolic stimulants on extraordinary occasions, to the following eflect (I (piote from the blue book) : — • "On Monday last, I was drawn by a big dog under a cab, and received a. wound from three to four inches long in my scalp, down tn the skull, and lost a great number of ounces of blood. Dr. Syines Thompson came to my assistance, and tnok me i'lom Cumberland Place in a cab home to Ilinde Street; I, in the meanwhile, holding the wound to prevent further bleeiling. I was very greatly exhausted from the loss of blood and the shock and the pain wliich afterward followed in stitching u}) the wound ; but I never took a drop of alcohol ill any shape or way, and in two hours T was quite ready to resume work. I liave had no fever. I have had no uitlammation. I jiave slept well, and have continued my work up to this time, with the only difference that I have not been out at night to a dinner partv or a meetinsr. Ten vears ago, I should liave thought it would have been necessary to w ■' 17l> (•iiami'A(;nk for t.am) iikads. f! f' i'l I'll liave tiikcn three or four ounces of ulcohol, and I am sure I shoukl have taken it; the result would j)r«)l)al)ly have been an increased aeti(»n td'the heart from twelve tliousand to sixteen thousand heats in tiu- twelve hours, and therefore a certain amount of inlhunination of the wound, the necessity the next niorniny of taking a black draut,'ht and a pill, and afterward, ])erhai)s, some saline, and at least two or three days' rest. Less than ten years ago I should have thought that a neces- sary part of the treatment." A gentleman said to me, "Ah, if you go on the Continent you ought, at your age, to taki' a little wine -the water is doubtful." They told me so when I went to California ; and they tohl me so when I went to Montreal. 1 said, '"■ 1 don't think J need it." " Miit I think you d(»." ''Well, look at me. I am sixty-one years of age. I have delivered seven thousand eight hundred addresses on the subject of temper- ance, and on other topics. I have travelled four hundred and twenty thousand nules, and I have not been in bed a wiiole day from illness since 184(i." That is how I have managed on cold water wititout the aid of stimulants. I thiidc there are some doctors who prescribe wine because they like to take a little medicine with their i)atients when they call. J think some prescribe it because they believe it to be necessar}-, and I rather guess that the physician who prescribed it for a very dear friend of mine was one of that sort. When my friend was in London, ho consulted a I)hysieiaii, who saiil. "You ought t(» take a little champagne." "Why?" he asked. "Well, you are very tall, and you are very bald, and the top of your head is necessarily cold, and you need sonm stimulants to send the hlood over the top of your head I" I suppf»se he believed it to be necessary. Some firescribe it because they do not know anything about it. 1 f t^ A SUSPICIOUS HLA( K lioi TLi:. 177 m sure I 3 been an () sixteen a certain the next i'terward, ays' rest, t a iieoes- \)iitineiit ' water is riiiii ; and " I don't .1, look at red seven )t' teniper- liiindred in bed a V I have ilants. I because nts when believe it iiiuu who ( (if that isultcd a Inipagne." you are cold, and [he top of lieccssary. mytliing I heard of a man who prosorilxMl his own medicines and furnished his own [)rcscripliHiis. lie was a very stinpry man; and when a small (luantity of any of his mixtures was left, he put it in a black bottle. It s..on coiuiiined a little ipeeae- uaidia, rhubarb, salts and senna, auiimony, mercury, —a little of cvcrythin,t:r ho had prescribed for years. Some one said to him, "What are you i^ohyj to do with that stulf?" "Use it." "Ifow?" "When I p:i-l hold of a fellow who has a complication of disorders 1 don't understand, I take the black bottle, sliake it np, and give him a d(»se out of it." Medical men prescribe a stimu- lant because they do not know any better. It is an easy medicine for them to prescribe, and for their pa- tients to take. I am not going to deal with the medical aspect of this question. There are some learned and noble men who are grap[)ling with that, and they can do it better than I, because they do it understantlingly. I have been very busy lately in gathering up ])hysicians' prescripti(uis, and the other day I had (piite a bundle sent to me. Among others T have a prescription signed by the surgt on of a certain hospital, as the diet for an imlividual: "Two glasses of brandy and water, four glasses of port wine. OLD MIXEM'S CUISK AM., 1 ■p %.. A/. ^^*>11^- o.A^>^^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 1128 lio M IM 2.0 U i 1.6 ol^ ^ i^°^ ;>^ 1^%/^*.*^ 1^^ o^^.^ >/ ^^^ >y ri>^ .! ts £P< If f' f ( : m :\ l! il , I 1 jl 1 178 GETTING EVEN WITH THE DOCTOR. one bottle of porter, and one i)int of milk." And what do you suppose ails the patient ? He has a sprained ankle ! Another is from a surgeon to a large iron foundry, one of the proprietors of which gave it to me : "Give Mrs. McCarthy a noggin of rum." A gentleman wlio took the place of a surgeon in another hos[)ital, told me that there was pre- scribed for one man eighty-six gallons of ale in six months, and the man's disorder was an ulcer on the leg. The ulcer had a rim round it nearly half an inch deep; but the beer was discontinued, and the ulcer soon afterwards came up even with the surface. I do not say that medical men are always dishonest, but let me give you a case that occurred. An upholsterer in a cer- tain town constantly suffered from serious bilious attacks; and he paid his doctor a pretty rouiul bill every year, besides sending him all the furniture he wanted. At last the up- holsterer signed the pledge, and at the next settling the bills were about square ; but at the end of the next year the pa- tient liad not had a single visit, nor taken a single dose of medicine, so that the doctor had to pay him the whole bill. The doctor then said, " You seem to have got over your bilious attacks." " Oh, yes, pretty well ; I am a teetotaler." "A teetotaler, how long?" "Since the 1st of January last." "My dear fellow," said the doctor, "you have taken a new lease of your life ; I shall never be called u[)on to attend you for bilious attacks again, I assure you." Now, why was that not said before? And why should he go on doctoring his patient year after year, and withhold from him the advice which he most needed ? I heard the following anecdote from the Rev. Mr. Reid. Two gentlemen from Scotland, when in America, visited Dr. Paton. While in his liouse, as he was a strict teetotaler^ they adoi)ted the principle, and it was right in them to do so. A WELL-TRIED REMEDY. 171) i what do led ankle ! one of the IcCarthy a place of a e was pre- iix months, The ulcer it the beer is came up nest, but let ;er in a cer- »us attacks; ^ear, besides last the up- ng the bills ear the pa- itxle dose of whole bill, over your teetotaler." nuary last." ivkeu a new attend you iv was that )ctoring his the advice Mr. Reid. visited Dr. teetotalei\ Mu to do 80. Some time after, when Dr. Patou was in Scotland, he dined with one of them, and observed that wine was on the table. "What," said he, addressing his friend, "I thonght you were an abstainer." " Oh, I use it as a medicine." " Do you require it for your health ? " "You must ask my doctor there," rei)licd liis friend, point- ing to a gentleman who was at the other end of the table. " Is tliat true, sir ? " said Dr. Paton, looking inquisitively at the person referred to. "Yes, sir, quite true ; necessary for him." "How long have you been prescribing it?" "Seven years." "Is it customary," continued the Doctor, "for physicians to continue prescribing the same medicine when no cure is being effected ? " " I don't know ; I never thought about it." There is not a physician who, if asked to give liis honest answer to the question, would not admit that alcohol, used in a healthy state of the body, produces disease. " Ah, but," say some, " there is enjoyment and gratifica- tion in it." So there is; I liave experienced tliat myself. I have felt it thrilling to the tips of my fingers witli a new, strange, delightfully exhilarating sensation. I have been in a club-room when the wine has passed from one to tlie other, and we have felt ourselves great men presently, with plenty of money in our pockets when we really had hardly enough to pay our board-bill. One man said to another, "Look liere, if yon want to borrow a thousand dollars in your business, come down to my oflice and I shall be very liappy to lend it you." Tlie man thought he could use a thousand dollars admirabljs and he went to his friend the next morning and said, "You told i 1 it i i 1 „ 1 I 1 r 1 :!,l I i^ 1 '1 f t ' , -; i' HI 11 . h 1 - \ f' ' i; 1 ' li L^ fe 180 GKATUITOUS ADVICE. me if I came to your ollice, you could let me have a thousand dollars to use in my business." '• Did I ? " " Yes." " Well, I have n't got it now, but 1 may have it by night." I heard once of a man wIk), in a wretched, dihipidated condition, was looking at the launch of a shi[). Some of the owners held a consultation, and thought the sliij) had better re- main on the stocks two or three days longer. One of them said, "T should be unwilliiio" to tnke the .^.fcfs-. responsibiHt}' _Jl of it." This poor, miser- able fellow came up, with his-'^ trousers shin- ing with old ' age, boots broken, and hat battered, and said : " I^'t her slide, 1 ivill take the respon- sihility.'''' Yes, there is ;i gratification, an exhilaration, an excitement produc(>(l by the drink. Any mistakes in the cabinet, send for one of us; we will reconcile all ques- tions to the satisfaction of all ])arties, foreign nations in- cluded. When we were hiilf druidi, beautiful visions passed •■-/ ClIASlN(i A 13U1J15LE. 181 thousand ' " Well, I heard lit ion, was levs held a (i.l> '. L' the respon- liliiration, an stakes in the i,U' all qwes- |i nations in- isions passed before us, and we only wanted the canvas and the pencil to immortalize ourselves. There is a gratification in drink- ing. What is it? It is the gratification of intoxication. Men talk about enjoyment in drinking! There is really none. It is merely momentary and imaginary. No nan ever received satisfaction enough in wicked pursuits to say, -Ah, now I am happy!" It is gone from him. All the enjoyments that can be obtained in this world, apart from the enjoyments God has sanctioned, lead to destruction. It is as if a man should start in a chase after a bubble, attracted bv its brisrht and o-orgeous hues. It leads him through vine- ,/ O til o yards, under trellised vines with grapes lianging in all their purpled glory; it le;uls him past sparkling fountains, amid the nuisic of singing birds; it leads him through orchards haiK'-infr thick with uolden I'ruit. He laughs and dances. It is a merry chase. I>y and by tiiat excitement l)ecomes in- tense, that intensity becomes a passion, that passion a disease. Now^ his eve is lixed upon the bubbl(> with fretful earnest- ness. Now he leaps with des[)eration and disai)pointment. Now it leads him away from all that is bi'ight and beautiful, from all the tender, clustering, hallowed associations of by- goni^ days, up the stiH'p hot sides of a fearful volcai'.o. Now there is [lain and anguish in the chase. He leaps and fallh, and rises, bruised, scorched, and blistered ; but the excitement has the mastery over liim ; he forgets all tliat is past, and in his terrible ciiase he leaps again. It is gone! He curses, and bites his lips in agony, and shrieks almost the wild shriek of despair. Yet still lie pursues his prize. He nnist secure it. Knee-deep in the hot ashes, he falls, then up again with limbs torn and bruised, the last send)lance of liumanity scorched out of him. Yet there is his prize I He will have it. With one desperate effort he makes a sudden leap. Ah, he has it now ; but lie has leaped into the volcano, li (> " n i II' i' '\ 'A {•J » 182 AN AFTERNOON WITH WEliNEU. and, with a burst bubble in his hand, goes to liis retribu- tion. Heaven pity every man who follows, and is fascinated by, an enjoyment God has not sanctioned. The result of all God's good gifts to him is a burst bubble! An Indian chief bartered away costly diamonds for a few glass beads and a plated button. Young men are every day bartering away jewels worth all the kingdoms of the earth for less tlian a plated button, for that which vanishes in their eager gras[). Enjoyment I We have wonderful capacities for enjoyment, and wonderful sources of enjo3nnent. But I have come to this c(Uiclusi(in, yoiing men, That there is no enjoyment worth having for wliicii you cannot thank (Jod. None! And if you can get drunk, and then thank (iod for it the next morning, then I have nothing more to say to you. AVe have sources of enjoj'ment all around us and beneath lis and above us and everywhere. J remember a lad\' asking me once, in (Cincin- nati, if I would go and hear Werner play. Now I am cxcccmI- ingly fond of music, and he is an admirable musician. We went to his room, and he said he would play for me on Wednes- day afternoon as huig as I chose to listen. O, those wild, weird, wailing discords of Chopin, resolved into such wonder- ful harmony ! All T could s;iy was, like Oliver Twist, "More, more." and he gave me more for nearly two hours. And then he stood up, twisting his fingers, and said, "You fill me full of music; you arc such a grand listener; I will give you a sonata from Beethoven." When I went out I said to the lady who accompanied me, " I thank God for such a capacity for enjoyment." T/iere is something to be thankful for. Stand with me on the summit of the Breven. Yonder are tlie white ridges of the Vaudois and Bernese Alps. Behind us, Sallenche with its bridge; before us, hoary-headed Mont Blane, the monarch of the Alps; there, the Dome du G6ut<^, the Aigudle dii Dru, the Mer de Glace, the Glacier d'Argen- i i ^^M THE DAXtJKU OF GRATIFICATIOX. 188 his retvibu- Ls fiiscinatcd result of aU Indian cliief beads and a •tci'ing away V loss tlian a ager gvas[). ov eiijoyi>icnt, have come to oyment worth i\ And if you next nioniing, nave sources oi" 1 above us and mce, iu Ciuciu- w I an\ excecMl- niusician. ^^ e nuMiu Wednes- O, those wild. , such wonder- ^Pwist, ":Moro, |,„'s. And then You iiU i>»G ^^'^^ will give you a t I said to the such a capacity aukful for. n. Yonder are Alps. Behind ,i.y-headed Mont •Anic du GouK-, -xlacier d'Argeu- M M tiere, the Glacier des Bossons, the (i lacier de 'raeoimay, and Ciiamouni, like a nest of ant-hills at our feet. The Arveyron, rushing from the Mer de CJlace, joins the Arve, and, like a sil- ver ribbon, winds tlirough tlie valley. How deeply, darkly, beautifully blue the sky I How clear the atmos])here I I lark I Is that distant thunder? No; it is the ice cracking, miles away in yonder glacier. Listen. It is the soft sound of fall- ing water, sweetly breaking Lhe hush and stillness of nature in repose. How grand, how sublime, how awful ! Your eyes till with tears, your nerves (juiver, your heart thrills, and yonr whole soul seems to be absorbed by the wonderful grandeur and sublimity and beauty. And you thank (Jod that you are created with such a capacity for enjoyment, and with such sources of gratification all around 3-ou and about you and above you, worthy of a (lod to give to man, and of man to I'eceive reverently from his Maker. And that one fact of a little temporary gratification is all that you can bring in favor of the drink I ^Vhy, if there was no gratification, there would be no danger. It is the gratihcation to a man of nervous susceptibility that consti- tutes the danger. The gratification produced by the action of drink on the brain and nervous system, in wdiatever phase it may present itself to you, is always harmful ; whether you are very jolly, or w^hether you are outrageously merry, or whether you are sullen and surly, it makes very little differ- ence. It is no more degrading to be brutally drunk than it is to be sillily drunk, and have a whole citv lauffhinight, as I entered the house, " I cannot be needed here." The servant showed me to the drawing- room, richly appointed witli all that wealth could afford. A lady of aristocratic bearing soon made her appearance, and after the usual commonplaces she asked me a strange question. " You have had great experience," she said, " but have you ever known or heard of a son striking his mother ? " " More than once," I said, " but never unless that son was influenced by drink ; indeed, I cannot believe that any young man, in his sober senses, would strike his mother." She seemed relieved to know that hers was not a solitary case, and she informed me that she had a son who had been dissipated for years. They had tried fair means and harsh measures with him, but to no purpose. " At length," said she, " we have turned him out of the house. We liave provided him with no money, but he will get money, and has obtained it in a way I dare not tell you. I wish you could see him ; but you must not let him know I have seen you." Three weeks after, a gentleman called on me and requested me to meet this young man at a hotel. He said lie would' introduce me, but I was not to speak on any but general top- ics. The young man met me very cordially. There seemed to be something admirable in his disposition, but lie liad evi- J WTTj II ! I- 'u ■ tl ill I •.■ !|^ iU^ 18G I WILL DllINK TILL I DIE." (U'litly (hank much. Shortly after, lie said he knew me, and that he had heard me speak in the tabernacle, and that I had told the truth, " for," lie said, " I am a drunkard." I becfan then to sjjeak to him about drink, lie said he never woukl give it up. "Perhaps you don't believe me," he said, "but I'll tell you the reason ; it is because I cannot., I cannot."' "I don't believe you," said I. " I have tried to do it," said he, " time after time. Yes, sir," and he became excit- ed and paced the room ; " I liave disgraced my family ; yes, and they have turned me out of doors. They tried to keej) money from me, but I got it ; I stole it, and will steal it again. T 111 u s t h a V e drink ; I will drink till I die ; and when T die I hope I shall die drunk." "I have lieaid men before talk as you do," said T; "you don't mean what you say." I spoke of his mother. He sprang to his feet, and cried out, " Look liere, have you seen my mother?" I endeavored to evade his question. '■'■Have you seen my mother?'''' he continued; "be lionest, and tell me." "I have." "And she sent you to me, did she not? " Then he drew himself up, his face changed, and, with his hand clenched and a fierce expression of countenance, he shouted, " Go back, back to her, I say ; tell her it is too late "go back, hack to iieh, i say.' MV MOTHER TAUGHT ME. 187 new lue, and id that I had d." 1 began never would he said, ''but [ cannot.'' "I , it," said he, " time after time. Yes, sir," and he beeame excit- aud paced the om ; '• I have sgraeed my mily ; yes, and ey have turned e out of doors, ley tried to ej) money from I, but 1 got it ; stole it. and 1 steal it again, must have I hope I shall ; you do," said )f his mother, ere, have you his question. |be honest, and me, did she ged, and, with untenance, he it is too late to send a temperance lecturer now; it is too late for her to do anything for me. My mother is a good woman, and I respect lier, but I cU)n't love her ; every particle of affection Jor Jier is Inirnt out of me. I reniendjer how, in that ac- cursed dining-room, she used to say, ' Oidy a half-glass, my dear,' when she asked me to drink the health of the gentle- men there. Now what am I to do," added he, "but to drink on? for nil/ mother tauijht inc.'' Oh, but, it may be said, if he liad not learned to drink at his mother's table, he might somewhere else. "It must needs 1)0 tliat offences come, but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh." And when you give a child a glass, you give him that which can do him no good, but which may bn the means of his ruin, and may lead liim by and by into a course of evil that will be painful to contemplate. Sonu; ladies have said to me, " But you total abstainers socni to blame us for recklessly conforming to the customs of society, as if we had no care whether our friends became intemperate or not." It is not so. Do you suppose I would dare to say that the mother who gives her child drink has no love for her child? 1 remember an incident that occurred upon Table Rock, Niagara Falls, before it fell. A lady was standing upon the brink of the precipice, and, seeing a shrub just below her, stooped forward to pluck it, when her foot slipped, and she fell over the precipice and wiis dashed to l)ieces. Now, I ask, if a brother aiul sister were standing on Table Rock, and he should say, " Sister, I '11 pluck that shrub and bring it to you ; a poor, timid woman, in attempting to pluck it, fell ; but I have nerve enough ; I can stand, and stoop quietly, and deliberately pluck the shrub," where is the sister that would say, " Well, my brother, you are not such a fool as to fall; you have nerve enough to pluck it?" Tliere is not a sister that would not say, " Brother, there is risk in m i ' 1 , 1 t I ! i lIJi r. m Pl it ' I' I' I! i; ill I i II !, 1 !' li .' 188 POSSESSED OF A DEVIL. it, stand buck I "" ^Viul yet tlie sister is saying, " Hi'i)tlior, j)luck the wreatli entwined aronnd lliis g;()l)let ; tl-^nsamls liavc hoeu stung l(t (leatli by the serpen! eoneeuled in the ilowers ; but bind tlie wreatli on your brow; to you it sliall be a wreatli of lK)iu)r, aitliongli to thousands it has been a band of ever- lasting infamy." It is fearful wlu-n we look at the fascina- tion which seems to have laid hold of the people through the length and breadth of the land in sustaining and suj)porting the drinking customs of society. A young man, the son of a wealthy nun-chant, after drink- ing freel}', was seized with iJdlriion trcincns in a hotel. His friends came to see liim, but hardly understood his ravin.gs as he begged them to tear away the serpents that wei'e twin- ing themselves around him. At last, feeling one of the l)aroxysms of this terrible diseasi; stealing upon him, lie started from his bed and cried, " Hold me I "' and dashed out of the window, In the street, amid broken glass, blood, au " " Because ce he had a man te that he could ns to move him. id they thought --fc if they made him ;i deacon tliat would do liim good. 80 they made him a deacon, and tlien he was worse tlian ever. Now I have found out in my experience that when a man is absolutely obstinate, the best thing is to let him alone. His obstinacy is his only stock in trade for notoriety ; take that from him and he comes to his own level, — and that is, mor- ally speaking, a lot of clotlies with a hat on the top of them. The more you plead with such men, the more you cultivate and strengthen their spirit of obstinacy. Well, this man became a deacon, and then he troubled the church ten times more than before. At last, at a church meeting, the minister was perfectly worn out with the deacon's obstinacy, and he said : " Brethren, we will resolve this church meeting into a prayer meeting. We have done all we possibly can for Deacon Williams, and now, as a last resort, we will make him the subject of prayer. Brother So-and-So, we will unite with you in prayer for the deacon." So he prayed, and at the conclusion he said : " Now that we have done everything we can upon earth for this brother, we pray thee to prepare him and take him to heaven." And the deacon rose and said very deliberately: "Brethren, I won't go." And there are men who will not go to lieaven if you want them to, and the best way to get them there is to let them alone. I very well remember meeting a man of this kind when I began to speak on the subject of temperance. I had not quite as much experience then as I have now. Some one said to nie : " Now, there 's a man ; if you can get him to sign the pledge, it will be a great victory." "Great victory! why ? " " Because he 's such an obstinate fellow that it will be a great victory to overcome his obstinacy." I met liim, and I said: "Mr. Rice, why don't you sign the temperance pledge?" "Because I won't." "But why won't you?" " Because I won't." " Well," I said, " Mr. Rice " (I thought w n ii .HIT III: \h I ' "i 200 TIIK DUTCHMAN'S SETTINli HEN. ii funny stdrv mij^lit icacli liini), "yon roniind me very nuicli of a Diitclnniin who Imd a lien, and he said to a friend: 'I vants dot lii-ii to sut, and she von't set. She hops oft' (h)so orjgs und runs avay. Den I makes a leetle pox, shust so lony von vay und sliust so h)ng t'udder vay, und I puts dose eggs in dot pox, und den I eatehes dot old hen, und snubs her dis vay und dot vay, to let her know vot I means, und says. " Now set ! " lint so soon as I turns mine pack, avay goes dot hen ; und den 1 catch her von, two, free, 'leven dimes, und knocks her dis vay und dot, efery dime, und say, " Now sit dere I " But I vinds I could do Hot- ting mit her. So I gets a leetle lid to dot pox, und says "Now I dinks I've cot you ; " and I i)uts dose eggs ill dot box, und chams dot hen town, und I say. Hurrah I A leetle vile after- '"Tv'-^'^^-^i vords I goes to see how she — jfj gets on, und 1 hits u[) von cor- ner of dot lid, and I shust looks in. Oh, my goodness I dere vas dot old hen shust a- Hetting istandivg np !'''''' Well, I did n't get a smile from him, but he said this much: "■ 1 think I 've got a good deal of the old hen in me." Now there are some men we cannot move. If we move those to help us who are not themselves injured and ruined by the drink, we must ask them to abstain for the sake of others. And as I have said before (and I am not going to 'on, MY goodness!" A NOISLK WOMAN. 201 nd mc very lu' siiiil to a n't set. She s a leetle pox, ev vay, unci I X, luid den I lbs her dis vay iV vot I means, ut so soon as I 5 dot hen ; und 3, t'ree, 'leven 4 vay iind dot, ow sit dere 1 " : conld do not- , So I gets a (lot pox, und T dinks I've id I puts dose (OX, imd chams n, und T say, eetle vile after- () see how she iftsupvoneor- id, and I shust 1, my goodness I »ld lien shust a- iiile from him, ;ood deal of the If we move ired and ruined for the sake of mi not going to repeat the words, hut the sentinimt) ai-l jikiioksm iakh in SELF-SACIIIFICK; and if you woiihl he a hero, it uiiist be by doing and suffering for others. For a man Lo be a hero it is not requisite that he should be scieiitilie, literary, intelleetual, logical, oratorical, or eloquent; not at all. IIow many heroes are there in humble life, who are doing their work in the spirit of self-sacrifice! Let me rehite to you the ease of one in our own country. During the last year of the war, three gentlemen, one of them an Englishman, were riding through some of the out- lying towns of New England. The I'higlishnuui saiil, "The painful feature to me in New Enghind country life is the immense amount of Inniian veijetatiou one sees.'' "What do you mean?" "Well, in these isolated country towns without railroad commuiiii'ation, what do the people do? What do they see? Where have they been? What do they know? Vou, who are working in the busy haunts of men and know what life is, cannot call that 'life' which you see here. Why, it is existing in a circle ; it is a sort of vegetation. Now there you see a specimen of just what I mean." 'I'hey wer(^ passing a farm place, and on one side was a little house, a one-and-a-half-story house, and at a window sat a woman knitting. Slie had a black band round her white widow's cap, and was of advanced age. "There," he con- tinued, "that's just what I mean. Look at that woman. She eats and drinks and sleeps and knits and knits and sleeps and drinks and eats, day by day; but you can't call eating and drinking and sleeping and knitting, life. What does she know? Where has she been ? What has she seen ? What has she done? There sits a human vegetable." Sto^), sir; stand still awhile and look well at that woman. Her name is not known beyond the circle of her acquaintance, within the radius of a mih^ or two, but look at her. Sixteen 13 Ill fin ir I ( 'I ill ft i ^ li': 'MS I ■■■( I > If ' iM! J 202 A MOT I IKK OF IIEUOES. years iij»o she was left a pour widow with six children — the youngest a boy ol' four years old. She owned that little old house iuid four acres of land ; she was poor, for New England. Where is her eldest son? Doing his work as a missionary in a I'oreign field. Where is her second son? Doing his work as a home missionary in western Iowa and Kansas. Where is her third son? His work is done, and he lies under the sod at (iettysburg. She gave him up without a murmur and she wears that black band for him. Where is her youngest, her lienjauiiu? With his regiment, doing his duty in defence of the Union. J'ut there were six of them? Ay, but a re(|uisition came from Roanoke and Newbern, "Send us teachers for our contraband negroes, teachers who arc willing to endure ))rivatioi)s and to make sacriii(!es with- «)ut remuneration," and her 1 vvo daughters have left her for their field of labor, and she is alone, eating and drinking and sleeping and knitting. Well, let her eat and drink and sleep and knit, struggling M'itli })overty. She has, nevertheless, brought up her family of children ; she has given them to Ihm' countr}' and her God, and now she sits, quietly biding her time. If that is a "human vegetable," (liod send to our dear country a plentiful crop of such vegetables. You stand on one side, and drink your glass coolly, and despise another man because he is weak-minded. Can he liclp that? It is liis infirmity. And instead of despising him for his infirmity, you will, if yon are a Christian, fuliil the law of Christ by bearing the infirmity of your weaker brother. AVliy do you despise a man because he cannot do what you can do? We are very apt to despise men for their inlirmities. And I, old as I am, am learning many lessons about this, and so arc you. I once went into a strange church in a city in the United Stat(>s. I was on a lecturing tour. The usher gave me a seat 'JUST AS I AM." 203 (lien — till' ,tt little old w Englivud. inissioiuvry Doing liiw ami Kansiis. and lie lies ip wilbout II ,1. Where is ■at, di.ing Ids six of lliem? nd Newbern, , t(>iu'liers who sacritiees with- ve left her for 1 drinldng and vhdv and sleop , nevertheless, len them to her tly hiding her iitl to onr dear lass coolly, and (UmI. Ctv'i he 1,1 of despising Ichristian, fnlld If your weaker I; he cannot do men for then- many lessons in the Ilidtea gave me a seat and placed a man hy my side, poorly dressed, and, in fact, a very disagreeable man. lie would shrug Ins shoulders and jerk las elbows. Mis face twitched as if sheet-lightning was playing over it. lie was exceedingly di.sagreeable. 1 said to my.self, "I wish they had put me near any other man than this." By and by he put liis tongue out and made a gasping noise. " Dear me, what a disagreeable man ! " I betran to dislike him. I Ijcan to detest him. 1 said to myself, " I wish they iiad put him in an- other iiew," and I moved as far from him as I con- vcMuently could. He was a disagr(>eabli! man. The hvnin was given out, for the congregation to sing, and it was this: — ".Just as I iim, without one plea, Hut that thy l)loo(l was shcil for ini'." T heard that man try to sing, and I tliought to myself, " Well, really, if he knows that hynni, he cannot be so ex- ceedingly disagnH'able." So I moved nearer to him until I heard his singing. It was awful. I am exceedingly fond of nuisic ; I would travel miles to hear good music. It was jjositively painful to hear lus attempt at sing- ing. Such groaning, and squeaking, and hesitating! He would stop in a line to make that strange iu)ise. Then he would begin just where he left off, and sing as fast as he , could to catch up with the others. Theii he would go on Avith such a rush that he was two or three words ahead of them. I said to myself, "At any rate, this is a disagreeable A I)ISA(JI!i;i:.VULE NKUaiUOK. •t\\ - 204 THK LAUNCH. I i I f mi lij III! :i iii i I • ■ I /J ■ I., niiiii." 1 moved ;i\v:iy from him again. IK' camo to a lino wlier(! 1h> I'vidcnliy had forgotten the words, and without h)oking at nic, hut turning toward where I stood, lie said, '^ Wonhl you please give me the lirst line of the next verse?" 1 said, "• Yes, sir, 'Just as 1 luii, iioor, \vrot»'lu!(l, blind.' " He said, "Thank you sir, I know it now, for 7 cnii blitui, God help me. And I am i)aralytie." Then I heard him try to sing, ".lust as 1 am, poor, wrctchcil, hliiiil," and 1 tell you, I never heard :i symidiony of I>eethoven that thrilled me as the jagged music of that Christian man with whom (Jod was dealing, and I could have taken him, di.sagreeable as lie was, right to my heart. How many times we take a strong dislike to, or exjierieiu'e disagreeable feelings toward, some brother nuin,and when we know something of him we iiiul tliat lu; is an angel whom wo have sent away from us with ruoe words and harsh looks. One word more. Wo liave oeeasional reactions, and many are discouraged. There may be sdniething like reaction, and we can call it reaction, but it may be simply the settling down from a spe- cial excitement to the .solid ground of prinei[>l(>. We are not to b(> cairicd away by excilenu'ut, and shoidd not be. We are advot'ating glorious principles, high and lofty i»rinc'i|»les, and we will si'ck for (^od^^ help in (Uir noble cause. But wi; must prepare for cxperienties (hat may, perhaps, be not a little discouraging. Observe a noble slii[) as she is launched. She is fully rigged, and is now ready for sea; and as she sails down the river, she swee[)s past most majestically on her lirsl voyage. There is a band of music on the (|uarter-doek, tlio Hail(»rs are dctcktnl in their holiday rig, each at his station, uneotliovon 'liiistian man ■(' takon hiai, ov oxpovionoo , and wlion wo lun"! whom wo iiivsh hioks. ons, and many wo can call it ,vu IVom a spo- \Vo are not^ U(tt 1)0. Wo I'ly piinoiplos, aiiso. r>ut wo . he iiol a littlo anuohod. She id as sho sails Uy on hor lirst i;,itor-dook, llio lis station, and sidr. On the wliavvos and on the hanks of the rivor stand llio assemhlod mnltitudos with wavintjf hals and liandkor- oiiii'l's, (hooi'ing Iho nohlo siiii» on her lirst orniso, and hiihUnfj good-hy lo Iho [)assongors on tiioir lirst voya«;o. Are all thoso oavotios to last ; is all ihis oxoitomont to oontinno? No. Slio passes down iho rivor; sho <;-ots on( into tho oooan ; hy and hy tho oajjlain st-os a olond no hii-ocr than a man's hand. Doos ho koop that hand of mnsio on tho (]nartor- dook? Doos ho kooii tho sailors in tiioir holiday attiro? Doos lu; koop tho Hags stroaniiiii;' mast high? No. Ho issues his orders through Iho s))oaking-trumpot in tone that may ho hoard all over tho ship. No mnsii; now on tho quartor-dook ; tlio sailors havo on tiioir tarpaulins and sou'-wostt'is, and arc clad in litting garments h»r tho ooming storm; the llags arc hauled down and stowed away. Now man thoso yards, stow every light spar, furl this sail and root' tho other. Kvory man at his j)ost, two at the holm, and now wo arc |)roparod lor tho storm, and wi' will trust in rrovidoncc. The tem|)ost hursts u|)on Iho gallant ship, and sho (piivers in every tinihor. 'i'li(> waves grow niighly, strong, and iioroo, yet sho rises on their orosts and again plunges into the miglity trough of the sea. "Koop her head to til" wind," shouts tho captain. Hy hard struggling and a groat display of skill and courage she is kept afloat. \>y wnd l)y the sunlight hi'oaks through the murky olouds, tlu; sky hoconies cleai', she passes into siiu)oth water, and they are all sah', with not a plank started, and wliy? Heoause in calm weather they prepared for the coming storm, and then trusted in (iod. Let us imitate their example. King on oi Ihor ! :l I ;l ) i, ill I ! f i CHAPTER VIII. FACT AND FICTION OV EVERYDAY LIFE — SMILING FACES AND TREACHEROUS HEARTS — .MEN WHO WEAR MASKS. Variety the Spice of Life — Difticult Things for ;Me to Do — Wliat I Aim to Do — Life Often a Disguise! — Snalies in tlie (irass — Men Wlio Wear Masks — Duels, Debts, anil " .iinoeent Anuisenients " — A Persistent Collector — '' I '11 Fix Ye " — The Boy and the Cherry Pie — Absurd Sen- tences — Amusing Illustrations — White Lies — Story of a Minister, a Hull, and a IJass Viol — A Matter-of-fact Musician — The Old Lady who was Struck by Lightnim; — Loving " I'^veryt ing zat is Beastly " — Woman's Kights ■A Vision of Hdcn— '• Bridi,'c! Bridge An Animated Poli- tical Discussion — Its Sudden ICnd — A Laughal)le Story — A Cool Boarder — His Opinion of His Landlady's Butter — Choosing Between Three Lovers — The Captain's Device — How it Worked — Wasted Lives — Human Wrecks — Keal Heroes. SUPPOSE .111 iiulispenstible requisite for a discourse of any kind is a title, and tliis is u dillieult matter for me to fix uj)oii. " Variety is tlie spice of life," and I sup})ose it will 1)0 considered as si)icc chapter of this book. For my- decide that a title is necessary peg to hang a few thoughts upon. No one expects me to write an elaborate essay on a given sul»- jcct; I could not if I tried. I find it very diilicult to stick to my text. If I select a subject, I cannot treat it philoso- phically or scientifically, and hardly methodically. I like to interest il" I can, and amuse if I can ; but, above all, my 20(3 MASQUEliADlNG IN HEAL LIFE. 207 MILING FACES EAK MASKS. ) _ AVhat I Aim to — Mi'ii Who Weal- s''— A Porsisteiit Pie — Absurd 8eii- f of a Minister, a Tlie Old Lady who ■astly"— Woman's Vii Animated Poli- y — A Cool Boarder iig Ik'tweeu Three — Wasted Lives — 11 indispensable a discourse of I title, and this uatler for nie ti> Variety is tlu' ' and I supi)ose isidercd as spiif book. For im- itle is necessary a few thoughts cts me to writ.' )u a given sult- dilhcult to stick treat it philoso- ically. I lil> .e af. A man writes : " We have decided to erect a school-house large enougli to accommodate five hundred scholars five stories high." An old edition of a geography has this: "• Albany has four luuidred dwelling-houses, and two thou- sand four hundred inhabitants, all standing with their gable- ends to the street." On a certain railway the following lumi- nous direction was printed: "■Hereafter, when trains moving in an opposite direction are approaching each other on sei>a- rate lines, conductors and engineers will be requested to bring tlieir respective trains to a dead halt before the point of meeting, and be careful not to proceed till each train has passed the other." A steamboat captain, advertising an excursion, says: "Tickets twenty-five cents; children lialf price, to be had at the office." Coroner's verdict: "That A. B. came to his death by excessive drinking, producing apo- plexy in the minds of the jury." A hotel was thus adver- tised: "This hotel will be kept by the widow of the former landlord, Mr. Brown, who died last summer on a new and improved plan." Wanted, "A saddle horse for a lady weigh- ing about nine hundred and fifty pounds." An low^a editor says: "We have received a basket of fine grapes from our friend W, for which he Avill please accept our compliments, some of which are nearly tw^o inches in diameter." " Board may be had at No. 4 Pearl Street for two gentlemen with gas." Over a bridge at Athens, Ga., is the following.: "Any person driving over this bridge in a pace faster than a walk, shall, if II white man, be fined five dollars, and if a negro, receive twenty-five lashes, half the penalty to be bestowed on the informer." A ncAvspaper contained this: "We have two schoolrooms sufficiently large to accommodate three hundred pui)il.^ one above another." Another newspaper, in describ- ing the doings of a convention at Cleveland, said: "The procession was very fine and nearly two miles long, as Avas also the prayer of Dr. Perry, the chaplain." r ■W I i ^^12 ixFoirrrxATH mh. loxg. I 11 I \l nu \i Sometimes iiieu will oaiu (licir ;'ii(ls by what is called .i pleasant fiction, and I do not know that there is any moral wrong committed, if there is no intention to deceive. An old minister, who was very mnch oppused to the iutrodnction of a bass-viol into chnreh, was in the nudst of his sermon, when a bull that had escaped from the [lasture stoj)ped in front of the church and began to bellow. The doctor ])aused, ^ and looking up into the singers' seats, said : " I would thank (he musicians not to tune their instruments dur- ing the sermon." In another minute "Boo!" went the bull. "I really wish the singers would not tune their instruments while I am i)reaching ; it annoys me very niiu'h." "Boo!" went the Indl the third time. "I have twice re- quested the musicians in the gallery not to tune their instruments during sermon time. I now particularly re- quest ^Ir. Long to desist from tuning his big iiddle while I am j)reaching." Uj) junq)ed Mr, Long, "It isn't me; i( 's that confounded bull." The big fiddle was never heard again in that church. This Mr. Long was some- ^^''- i-<>^o. what matter-of-fact, like the old lady who, when comjtlalniag of rheumatism, was asked if she had ever tried electricity for MJ!. LONG S ACCLSKl!. M ! f STRUCK BY LlGIITNlXt;. 213 s called u any moral , if tliere (» (l(;cc'ive. who was i'd to the I liass-viol I llie midst K'U a bull irom the II front of began to tor ])aused, iulo the : "■ I would ans not to inents dur- it till' bull. istrumentH p- '^ )N0. m])laining ctricitv for 1 it. '" Law, yes," said slie, •• 1 was si ruck with li,Li'hliiiiig once, and it did n"t do me a bit of n'ood." Again, there is truth often in an ai)[)areiit coiiiradictit)ii, as when the Irishman in the House of ('ominous remarked of the French people that they were so restless they would nevt'r he at [leace till they were engaged in another war Or trulh may be conveyed when there is no intention. A Frenchinan, wjien asked if lie loved dogs, said : "Uiiil 1 love dogs and cats and horses and cows, and 1 do love everyting zat is beastly." We hear a great deal said of woman's rights and woman's wrongs, of woiiiaiTs mission, and all that sort of thing. I believe in woman's rights; but what are they? Are there not false ideas current in reference to wt)iiian and her riiJ'htful position? Pardon nu; if I introduce here a few words about woman; and I will, with your i)eriiiission, take you into the garden of Kden. "And the Lord (iod took the man and put iiim into the garden of Kden to dress it and to kee[) it."' We iiave here a human being as perfect as (Jod could make, with mental and moral powers fresh from the hand of his Creator, with a perfect and holy body, (iod had i>lanled the garden for him to live in. Flowers, trees, shrubs, were of divine choice; every bower, and walk, and lawn was planned by divine wisdom. What a garden must Paradise have l)een ! The shady grove, the forest, the hill and vale, the rose of Sharon and lily of the valley, were perfect. There was no alloy, not a care to distract, not an object dis;igreoal)lc to tiie man with i)owers in perfection to (Mijoy. fully (Miji.v. And yet his solitary condition is the only thing in Paradise wliieh Jehovah pronounced not good, lie looked on every- thing else and behold it Avas very good, but, "It is not good that the man should be alone: I will make him an help meet for him." Imagine Adam in Paradise ; everything to please the i nrp^ 214 WOMAN'S POSITION AND KANK. ■ :■ if: n eye, and cliavm the eur, and minister to a pure taste. If ever there was a being of whom it coukl be said, "It is good for him to be ahnic," tliat being was Adam, and yet "It is not got)d that the man shoukl be alone ; 1 will make him an help meet for him." The ereation was ineomplete without woman. If God has attached such importance to female influence as to pronounce the Eden of his own planting a solitary abode until Eve inhabited it, shall not we attach imi)ortance to the fact suiheient to assert the high character of her destiny, and (j^ualify her to fulfil the stntion allotted her by Divine Providence as man's helpmate? We must under- stand "helpmate" as a helj) of ecpuil rank and corresponding dignity with man. There are thousands of men who imagine that women are created merely to Hirt with, to amuse them when young, to be petted and caressed and played witli, and by and by to cook their food, look after the household affairs, and gratify their wants and Avishes. Helpmates, with such, are only a superior order of domestic animals rather than man's intellectual and moral associate, a help meet for the rank and dignity of man. Burns says that Nature tried her 'prentice hand on man before venturing on the finer task of fashioning woman ; but men in general are slow to admit woman even to an equality with tliemselves, and the prevalent opinion certainly is that women are inferior in point of intellect. We cannot come to a decision on such a question until the position of women in society is such as to give fair play to their capabilities. Take a class of boys and girls learning the same lessons or studying the same subject; you never find girls inferior to the lioys. Their memories are as strong, their per- ceptions as clear, and their understandings are as vigor- ous. They learn as fast, and as easily comprehend what they are taught. TJiey make as rapid progress in aritli- n EQUALITY OF l$OYS AXD GIKLS. 215 . If ever s good for "It is not m an help ut woman, e inflnence a solitary importance ;ter of her ted her by mst nnder- •responding men who rt with, to ivessed and , look after and wishes, of domestic associate, a md on man oman ; but ui equality uly is that \nnot come of women apabilities. lessons or rls inferior their per- as vigor- he nd what ;s in arith- metic, grammar, languages, and history. Many teachers give it as their opinion that you can often make girls understand a dillicult subject better than boys, and I believe that experiment and observation can detect no inferiority, to say the least, in the minds of the weaker vessel during infancy, childhood, or youth. liut let the woman grow up with the idea that — as the boy said — while "the chief end of man is to glorify (xod and enjoy Ilim forever, the chief end of woman is to get married;" that her sole object is to look out for a suitable match, to lay plans or traps to catch an eligible husband ; that she needs no insight into science ; that to be literary is to be blue ; that she is to have no vocation in which the cultivation of her intellectual power is necessary ; that if she is too learned she will frighten away that very polite and agreeable young man who intends never to marry a woman who knows more than he does ; that she must contract lier intellect to the dimensions of his ; that all the education and training will be of no use when she is married; that she will forget her French when she is married ; that she will have no time for music when she is married ; no necessity for natural philosophy when she is married ; and the education which is to elevate her will be pursued with a listlessness and apathy that always fall on man or woman eno'ao-ed in any piu'suit of which they can say, ''AVhat's the use?" I might give a list of illustrious women who have demon- strated that woman's mental inferiority is a mere fiction. We have the publications of women on history, natural philosophy, poetry, religion, and fiction, that will bear com- parison with the general literature of the other sex. The wives of missionaries find no greater difficulty than their husbands do in accpiiring the language of people among whom they labor. :\[auy women are distinguished botanists. '{) iMi It I I i ^. ! 1 '' ': i wr 1 • ^ I; 1 ■ U^. ■ih\ MV OI'INION OF WOMAN'S lil(;HTS. conehologists, and geologists; llirir colltM-tioiis, .specimens, and cabinets arc (luitc e(iual to those of the other sex. .Jane Taylor was tlioronghly ae(iuainted with divinity. Had Hannah More not been a woman, she might have liad liei' B. A., M. A., I). I)., or LL. I). Walter Seott has given strong testimony to his high ai)[)reeiation oi" .loanna Haillie. 1 might muUi|ily eases and weary yon with th(> eatalogne. Oh. but well, bnt; ont what? Why, women have not the ai)[)li('alion of men. How rarely does a woman give up when she is determined, and how seldom does she fail. How many a noble enterprise wonid luui' been abandoned bnt for the hrnniess of woman. Often her zeal is <[uiekened and iicr diligenee doubled by obstacles. 1 hold that woman is cajia- ble of being a hel[)mate eorresjjonding to the nobility of man. In sensibility slu' is liis superior, and the great re(|uisite is tliat her intelligence and sympathy should nuitually iidluenee each other; intelligence and moral principle nuisl be blended with sensibility to make woman what (iod designed her to be. I am not an advocate of woman's rights according to the tlieory of strong-minded wimu'ii, as I have said before. 1 have very little sympathy with what are called strong- minded women, who would thrust woman out of her sphere, and force hev to occupy a position h)r ^\ Inch she is not qualified in any resjjcct. Woman in her s[)here is all-jjower- ful, but dress her in male attire, let her uusex herself, and sacrifice woman's softness, tenderness, and modesty to an insane desire for woman's rights, and she loses her inllueuce for good. I dislike to see women strutting about in liloomer costume, men's jackets, and standing collars, as if they could not assert their rights without making tliemselves ridiculous. Women have work to do, and every woman who has force of character enough to conceive any rational enterprise of AN KHHAM) <>F MERCY. 217 ollu'V SOX. uty. ll'i*^ ^•0 luul lun- iveii stvoujj? liiiiUio. I ;n hiivi' n*.l i\uui oivr in' enod an' ninan is iMl'ii- bllUy <>t i»'»'- ■oat re(inis\U' u\d mutually ,vim'iple luust I,, what (i"(l ovding to the nd hofovo. 1 -..,Uod stvon;- „1' her sphovo, •h she is not le is all-powov- .X hersoU', aud Inodesty to an lu'V iulUieuee ml in lUoomcv Is if thoy eoidd Ives ridiculous, who has force enterprise of benevolence is sun- to carry it through. When Klizaheth Fry and lier noble helpers lirst entered tlie cell where a wild, lialf-savage looking crew of women were mustered, the sheriif said, "Ladies, you see your materials." A lady who accompanied her said, " I felt as if 1 were going into a den of wild beasts, and shuddered as the door was closed ui)on me," yet the brave, gentle-hearted lead.-r was left alone with them TllK I'lilsiiN \ ISiroiis. for hours, aiul such was the effect i)roduc('d that the "New- gate ladies," as they were called, became advisers at the Home Ollice in the matter of prisons and convict-ships. When Florence Nightingale, at Scutari, wanted blankets for the poor, sick soldiers, she was told that they could not be obtained without an order from some olhcial, signed aud countersigned. She cut the red tape by ordering the doors .to be broken open on her own responsibility, and the blankets '^ 14 n 218 rNFAli; ADVANTAGES. weiv appropriiittMl \)\ the [joor, >V()iiii(leil hkmi. Chira liartoii aiul sooi'os ol' iiol)lo woiiR'u in our dwii L-oimlry di'voted years of unwearied devotion in ministering to our brave soldiers. Some men liave the I'aeulty ol' obtaining tlieir ends by taking advantage oi" a.^eidents, forgetting that trutii caiuiol l»e affeeted by eontingeiieies ; antl they often obtain u tempo- rary triumph, altliougli for flic moment they may seem to A INAMMOIS \-()li;. iti liavo aehieved tluMr pui'i)ose. And (he truth is no more revoalecl than whon. on board a eanai-boat, a eoiiipany y were so absor])ed in tlicir discussion that no one heard the warning, except one man. who took advantage of it to cry out, "Look here! let's take |i |:^ ; THE POWKll OF FLATTERY. 219 lovoted yoai> lii'iv I'litls l)y tvulli ciumoi utiiiu a tempo- ma V seem t" ruth is IK. worv It, a (nnnpaiiy "I' UhI in a p»' rU'clion. litu-iil Tliov |al,s..vboii> r .J I. Ml". imes consiilt- lovc affairs occurred on voyage. ^^" occasion, ;i \vlio was vi'vy I tln-ee yoWA irh she shouM cahu day, an'l nip overhoavil- uMU will jump ^\ [wo t)f tht'iii •uUy ; whii'h ul' ed the captain. I lis advice was, "Take the one that did not jump, he 's the most sensible man of the tliree." Then there is the exaggeration in speech thai; is not so liarnih'ss in its effect; such as, "the ])]ace was crowded to suffocation ; " "I liad the headache, I thouglit I should have died;"' "I was uj) to my knees in mud;" "I'd give the world to hear Jenny Lind." Now do not call me fanatical and puritanical if I say that the practice of expressing our- selves in an inllated iiiid thougiitlcss way is more mischievous than we may Ijc aware of. It may lead us to sacrifice truth; the purity of trutli may be sullied; or the standard of integrity lowered by incorrect observations. While on this point let me go a little further, looking at the matter freely and faithfully. You caiuuit give greater offence than to call a man a liar. How many young men would shrink from Iclliug a dishonest lie, l)ecause they are honest; or a boastful lie, because they are modest ; or a malicious lie, because they are good-natured ; and yet would swerve from the truth ami tell a lie which they considered perfectly innocent. Think- ing that there is no harm in a simi)le falsehood, are they not, though honest, modest and good-natured, liars? and is the truth in them? A man should value truth for its own sake. Once undermine the reverence for truth, and tlie vice of lying may increase by exercise, until, by and ])y, one may spurn the bonds that truth wouhl hiy upon his tongue, ami go to the widest extent of his invention and the utmost stretch of his imagination. Let not our good-humor prevent us from giving right names to wrong things. Begging the (juestion Is cowardly, and judgment is perverted by calling evil good. What, nnist I tell the truth if it hurts the feel- ings of another? rn])leasant truths need not always be told ; men who always ])Iurt out iniwelconie truths are offen- sive, and a lie may ])e told with the kindest motives; but ill .^ ^n * 222 LIVING AN AIMLESS LIFK. i i hii ; M there are cases in which you must tell either the truth or a lie. You are not responsible for consequences or results. Do right and leave the consequences with Him who is truth, and loves and guards his own. If we do evil that good may come, we take the matter out of His hands into our own. Direct falsehood, under any cin-unistanees, I consider to be wrong, though it may involve no other sin but itself. There is an u[)rightness of speech as well as of action that we should strive to attain. Love the truth, follow the truth, and practice truth in word, thought, and (K'ed. How many men's lives run to waste, not because the dis- position is intensely wicked, but because there is no settled purpose to live right ; not because the mind is ]ireoecupi(!d by bad intention, but because it is unoccupied by any inten- tion at all. Without jjurpose. tliey begin life; they ])l<)Ugh a little, sow a little, but reap no harvest. 'Hicy i)ay a price, but secure no pureiiase; letting the sj)irit of achievement die, they become drones in tlic hive of society; witli a man's faculty tor enjoynu'iit, inq)r()vcincnt, and usefulness, thev fritter away their cniTgies, become morbidly miserable them- .selves, do no good to others, and Ix'comc as disgusted witli life as the rich man who conuuittcd suicide, leaving a pajici' on which he had written, '* I die because I am weary ol living to eat. drink, and sleej)," — or settle down into tlie selfish, useless man of the world, content, ai'ter tlieir poor, miserable fashion to he, till death llirills them into a wakeful consciousness of what they are. wiiat tliey have been, wlnil they might have been. They have lived well for themselves, have ke{)t good society, furnished a good table, and held high state, but no blessing comes ui)on them from anyone whom they have saved. They jn'esent to the Father no soul saviil by their influence as a token and result of work in his vine- yard, but all is a blank, their life is a sham, and their passing fcf-. A AIELANCIIOLY SKillT. 223 ) truth or a or ri'svilts. ho is truth, t good may () our own. isider to he self. There i(.n that we ^v the truth. !ause the tVis- is no settled , jiveocc'upied hy any hiten- they plough a y pay a priee, ueveiuent die, Avith a uiau's el'uhiess, they iserahlo theui- lisgusted with aviug a paper am weary ol l..\vii into the cv their poor, into a wakeful live heen, what for theuiselves. i,u(l hehl higli aiiyoue whom „o soul savr.l ,rlv iu liis vinc- d their passiui^ away leaves all survivors indifferent, and tiie world will never miss them ; gone, gone, are they to their own place. But more painful is the wilful wasting and s(juandering of life, health, talent, and energy which (Jod lias given to glorify him and bless the world, in wicked, sensual gratilications. See that young man, rich -^*fi^: • ■• \ in all that might make him great, Avith robust and vigorous healtli, and even with high and noble am- bition, starling in that deceitfid, llowcry jtath of sensual delights, chasing the bubble i)leasure, AS Sill'; WAS AM) AS SIIK IS. breaking through every restraint that the law of God would throw around liim, blasting his rejmtation, stultifying his intellect, changing tlu; image of (Jod into the stamp of the Devil's die, until he becomes a wreck. See that l>attered hulk lying on the strand. Once she Avas a fair bark, trim, cop])er- faslcned; with rigging all taut, and streamers ilying, she walked the waters like a thing of life. Now her black, broken ribs stand up irregular and gaunt, like spectres of the past ; the wavt's washing through her gaping seams, and wind sighing J m I 1 ■ ?! if' ' ! '' ■ !i ' i n 1 1 j 1 i h ;lfr i If 224 TYPES OF MEN. tlirougli licr rotten rigging, seem to sound a sad requiem of de[)arted days. Do you not feel sad as you gaze upon the ruin of man's workmansliii)? Oli, how unutterably sad to look u})on the wreck, the ruin of a man, a being fearfully and wonderfully made, endowed with glorious capacities for all that is noble and grand ; the tenement shattered, and the tenant, once capable of serving God, now stained, defiled, driven out before its time, where, ah, where? God know- eth. Oh, it is pitiful, pitiful, and, God forgive us, these wrecks are all around us; these ruins lie across our foot- l)atli, wrecks of men, ruins of men. Oh, that every young man would lieed the solenni injunction, "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not." There are braggarts and blusterers in society, but there are many kind-hearted souls who are hai)i»y, when they can nmke others so. There are tattlers and busy-bodies; but there are silent, reflecting observers of men and things, wlio say but little ; but when they sjieak, it is as an oracle. There are men who wear smiles on their faces, whose hearts are unprincipled and treaclierous; but there are true friends with a rough outside, wlio s])eak with tlieir hands more than with their tongues, with deeds rather tlian words. There are brutal, hard men ; but tliere are many loving men, who act as a balm to the rankling wounds of humanity. There are men wlio are full of gall and bitterness, hateful, and hating one anothei ; but there are compassionate spirits wliose "charity thiid^etli no evil, suffereth long, and is kind." Tliere arc tliankless repiners, always magnifying their little troubles: but there are grateful s])irits tliat, come good or ill, always sing of mercy; to tht'iii "the heavens declare the glory d God," and "the eartli is full of his goodness." There aiv proud and supercilious scei)tics who affect to pity simple- minded C^hristians; ])ut, th;ink (iod. thcit' are men and t I UNNOTICKD HEROES. 22') requiem of ;e \ipou the iibly sad to i)CT feiul'ullv apucities for red, and the ncd, defiled. (Jod know- ve us, thesi' OSS our foot- every young on, if sinners ty, but there ;lien they ean lies; but there s, who say but rhere are men p unprineiph'tl with a rougli MM witii their ■re are brutal, ) act as a balm are men who I hating one vhose " charity There aiv it tie trembles: or ill, always . the glory ol ;' There are ■() pity simple- are men and women who set a value on his word above all earthly things. That is the stronghold where they go for safety, the treasure- house where they obtain riches, a never-failing source of wisdom, encouragement, reproof, and correction. Tlie world's estimate of men is not generally the correct one in the highest sense. How many real heroes pass by unnoticed, modest, quiet, unattractive, and unassumijig ; the gay avoid them and pass them by with a sneer ; only those who know them fully appreciate and love them. They would not particularly grace a drawing-room, the thoughtless throng heeds them not ; to them they seem stained, marred. ^Vhy, my fine gentleman, these marks and stains are hon- orable scars, obtaiiicd on many a well-fought field ; they have entered the conflict of life with brave, true hearts, and will be at last ranked among those who have overcome. 'i i Iji i I i.t J I 1 1'' r n 4 CIIArXER IX. IN THK TOILS OF THE TliMPTEU — CHAKMED UNTIL CHAINED — THE HATTLE OE LIFE — A STAINED KECORD. Tlio Old Lady and the Haystack — Driving Nails in One's Own Collin — The Green-eyed, Fiery-tongiicd Serpent — IJobbing Birds' Nests — Suspended in Mid-air — A Frightful I'osition — Only a Single Strand Between liife and Dt'atli — A Thrilling Ineident — Narrow Escape — My Frolic With a Child — A Boy Again — The Drunlvcn Loafer — Look on This Picture, Tlien on 'I'hat — Youth and Old Age Side hy Side — A Picture for Young Men — Past. Present, and Future — A Physician's Story — A Pathetic Incident — Alone — A Night iu the Cold and Dark — A Little Girl's Sad Story — The Old Lady's Feelings — "A Certain-sort -of-Goneness " — Nearer and Nearer to the End — A Stained liecord — Life is What You Choose to Make it — " Where Are Those Dogs Going ?" — Treasures Laid lip Above — Lift>'s Battlefield — IIouoral)lc Scars — A Disgraced Regiment Winning Back Their Colors — Honor Pctricved. 'HE (j^rout oLjeet wo liave in view is t(» stir up tlio people to d, sensu- ality seated on his swollen lii), the image of (5od marred. What is that ? Is that your present? Then you shall see another vision. It is a wretched, emaciated creature ; 3'ou see his heart is all on fire ; the worm that never dies has begun its fearful gnawings. What is that? It is your future. The power of evil habit does not destroy conscious- ness. The curse, to the man who is going down stej) by step, is the remembrance of the past. All the blight dreams of his imagination are vividly before him, but separated from him by a continent of grief and disappointment, pain of body, and fever of spirit. Distant, clear, but cold, is the moon 1 , :« :, r :' I I ■ ii 232 A 1)i;kai)FUL condition. that shines on his wakijig iigcny or on liis dospcratc repose. He has been the shive to evil habit ; lie has spent his life and his fortune, sold his birthright. And what has he obtained? Can any eondition be more dreadful than his, with ambition and no expectation; desire for better things, but no hope ; with pride, 1 it no freslnu'ss of feeling? When we know there are so many men wrecked and ruined by this one sigency, and especially when wo know l)y experience some- thing of its power,— can we sit still and not wage an aggressive war u[)on our enemy and the enemy of our race and country ? i There is no power on earth that will nnike a num or a woman a liend like the power of driidc. A physician told me that once, when he was employed in visiting some poor families, he i'ound a girl, about fifteen years of age, an intel- ligent little creatine, ill of consumption. He knew the father and mother were (hinkers, but he did not dream they would neglect their suffering child. Tiu! physician came liome very late one night after a hiu-d da3'^'s work, and had not vis- ited his little patient. lie felt so uneasy all night about her that, early next morning, a bitter cold morning ho went to her house. There he found the little creature alone in a sipudid room, sitting by an empty fireplace, her arms tightly folded round her, as if to kee]) her little shivering frame from falling to i)ieees, racked, as it was, by the cough from which she suffered. "Elizabeth, my 'hild," said the physician, "what are you doing here? Why are you not in bed?" "I have not been to bed, sir." " Have you not been to bed all night ? " " No, sir." "When; are your father and nu)ther?" "They have gone to bed, sir." " Why did they go to bed and leave you up?" " Father A riTlFUL CA.SK 233 ; wago an >f our race lat are you vo not been brought home a bottle of rum last night, and they drank it and went to bed." "And have you been sitting here all night, my cliild?" OS, sir, Have you had no light? N o, sir. N.) f ire ■N o, sir. ■ NV II II V e you been sitting all V • >^ ■■...■ V^'- . '^; '* . ''' . 1 p^i^ ■ -x^vl :"'" -T^jk ^ ■WESlHuhlij 1 " II lU^HHjQj) ''11' BSW^ ^. ■, ***^. \ \ X nig ht in (he cold and dark al one es. sir. \ \ an "^riiink of the sufleriiig in body and mind that little girl en- dured in t ho long hours of that l)itler win- try night, sitting from night till ;, in a l)ari' and dcso- 11, ill, no tire, no light, ithout sullieieiit cloth- 111 1: riivsK IAN s niscovKiiv. iiig (o keep her frail body warm. And there, in an ad- joining room, lay her father nnd mother beastly drunk. I say, tliiMi, there is no power on earth that will mak(> a man or a woiiiiiii ;i devil so (luickly as the power of drink. I^nok iit (he effects of drunkenness ujion a man. Cod made miui in his own imagi^ what mars (hat image and stamps it with the couiderfeit die of (ho devil? Drink does it. "iMan by nature walks erect and lifts his forehead to the If) m 234 GHASTLY WITNESSES. ; n ! 'i ;( i|i ).;: I stars," and lie is erownod lord of creation : what breaks his sceptre, tears his crown from his brow, and degrades him below the level of the beasts ? Drink does it. What sears his heart, and dams np the fountain of pure and holy att'ec- tion ? It is the drink. What fills our almshouses and our jails? What hangs yon trembling wretch ui)on the gallows? It is the drink. And we might almost call upon the tond) to break forth. Ye mouldering victims, wipe the crumbling grave-dust from your brow ; stalk forth in your tattered shrouds and bony whiteness to testify against the driidc I C(mie, come from the gallows, you spirit-maddened man- slayer, grii) your bloody knife, and stalk forth to testify against it! Crawl from the slimy ooze, ye drowned drunk- ards, and with snlfocation's blue and livid lips s])eak out against the drink. Suap your burning chains, ye denizens of the pit, and come up, sheeted in lire, dripping with the fhimes of hell, and with your trumpet tongues testifj-ing against the deo'^ "(iai;v ation of tiie driidc." No young man expects that anything of this kind will come ui)on him. I do not s;ty that it will, but I want young men who drink lo test this matter. .Inst test it. A man in business takes account of his stock, does he not, to see how he stands commercially? The captain of a vessel takes his bearings, and nndreeisely (jiicstion of on say you just test it. ask you to Ion you want t created hy would never or eame into 4 vt I the world longing for a gliiss of ale, any more than for a (}uid of tobacco. It is an acquired a})|)etite. Kow if you desire a glass of ale, as many of you will, or if you want one to-morrow morning, all I ask is — let it alone, and ure how much ijuii want it. Some of you will begin t(» argue the point: "VV^ell, I am one of those who cannot do without a little; 1 rciilly believe it is necessary for my constitution. 1 feel, as the old lady said, 'a certain-sort-of-goneness without it.' It is always upon me."" Ah. there is the fallacy. You s;iy you have no api)etite for it. And you think that is so, because when the appetite criives. you gratify it and satisfy it for the time being. l\y and by, the appetite craves again. Now lit it (doitc till you do not feel the want of it any more, and if you attempt that, some of you will lind you have a (lillicult task to accomplish. It has a gri]) upon you. and you will lind that you are one of the subjt'cls of this craving. I will ask you another (juestion. Do you not drink more now than you did live years ago? Do you nest take a glass of ale oftener than you did live years ago? Are you not increasing the quantity? Some of you drink twice as much as you did five years ago. (naf //on know it. You exjiect to live thirty years, or thirty-live ycai's, longer. Wiiat will it l)c if you double your ([uantily every livi' years? If you drink moic now than you did live years ago. it will be easier inr you to give it u[) n(iw than il ever will be again. All I ask of young nuMi is to test the matter. There are those of ns who have come out of the (ire, who arc scarred and bruised, who will never be wiiat we might iiave been had it not been for the accursed drink. As year after year rolls on and brings us nearer and nearer to the end, what would we not give could we wipe out our record! Oh, that awful record, young man ! Yon are writing a new record every day. You begin in the mortung witli n clean wr ii lb ii 5 I M 1 1! ) H . 236 WHAT LS YOUlt KECORI)'.' page, perfectly clean, and at night it is smeared, and smudged, and blotted, and then you hastily turn it over and think it is gone. No. You never can wijjc out a word of yf)ur record; you never can blot (Hit a stain, nor erase one. No, sir! You are making an ineffaceable record. What a grand tlung it is to I)e a young man, with all of life before you to make of it what you choose, to mould it as you will, to make it just what you please. IIow many are making their life a desert, when it might be a gai'den ; making it a dreary, barren waste when it might be fruitful in good works and holy influences, stund)ling, blundering, aimless, almost re- minding you of the story of a boy walking thnnigh the streets with a couple of dogs;. Some one said to him, "Where arc those dogs going?" "I don't know," was the rei)ly, "they have come in by the coach and have eaten their directions." These men positively look as if they had drunk their directions and did not know where they were going : and their ai)pearance would be absurd if it were not so deplorable to see them grojjing through life with no defi- nite purpose or fixed princi])le to direct their course. Oh, the beginning I So many go into ruin with all of life before them. You are like a switchman on the rail- way. Here comes the locomotive and the train of cars freighted with human life, hopes, and hap])iness, and your hand is on that switch. You can turn that train on tlie main track, you can turn it on the siding, you can turn it down the bank; but when it has ])assed by, your control over it has gone forever. Never will you have another such opportunity, and opportunities are passing you day by day, day by day. Ry and by you will say, as poor Churchill did on his (h'ath-bed, "All gone; every opportunity lost; what a fool I have been ! " Young niiin, is that to be the end of your life with all its ^i THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 237 j)r()S[)eet.s uiid all its bright hopes? Now let me tell you this one thing: ninety-nine out of every hundred ruined men are ruined by strong drink. I do not mean ruined linancially, for I do not consider that any ruin at all, because, ■when a man dies, it is not what he leaves or wliat he carries with him, but what is laid up there ! Jle may die so poor that the jiarish may have to bury him, but yonder is the; crown of life "to him that overcometh." Now I say, young man, is that to be the end of it? Ninety-nine out of every hundred men wlio are ruined nu>rally, and I might almost say ])hysically, intellectually, and religionsly, are ruined by the use of drink. It is the great curse of this country. Then what shall wo do? What we want is to stir up the peoph' to it'ove in this matter. We want you to hell) lis, young nuui. It may cost sonuithing, but life is a battlelield. Yes, it is. Oh, I like these fights. iV man said tome once, "■ I m^ver fought a battle in my life." Then I said, "Well, I jiity you, if, among all the forces for evil in this world, none of thena thought you worth the; tackling." 'J'here are sonu', I suf)- ]ios(', who never light battles, — (juiet-tempered, easy going l)eoi)le, very sweet children. They have no emotional nature, no sti'ong pro])ensities ; they are good, negatively good, and wlien they reach the goal they are without a nuirk, smooth and sleek. And you pi'aise these nu'U. "All, that is tlie man for me; see how smoothly he went through life." And the other one that started with him began to stundde and fall, and rose and fell again; and when he reached the goal he was scarred and marred, and battered aixl bruised, and you despise him. Why? lie came into the world with a fierce, passionate nature that neecled one constant battle to control, and sometimes he fell. Uut ho cried out, "Rejoice not against me, O miuo enemy; when I fall, F shall ari.se." I fr m> 238 HONOU UETKIKVKI). prefer the lighter to the iiian wlm never fights. All honor to the lighters I Now, young men, lor yourselves and for others, enter into this eonlliet. It is ;i grand one. An English regiment in India had its colors taken away for insubordination. Every man drew his rations and pay just as usual. No punishment c»f any sort was added. And yet every man in that regiment, whatever he might be, — possibly eoarse, illiterate, or brutal, — and however lowered by his miserable mistakes, had an ideal sense of honor. Every man groaned and suffered under the chastisement of the loss of their Hag. But the time came when a fort was to be stormed on llie top i)f a steep hill. It was a perilous thing to charge up that long, canuou-sweitt ascent. lint the o])portunity was tlicre. Tiie connnandiiig ollicer rode down the line in front of the disgraced regiment and said, "Attention, men! your colors are on llu^ toj) of that hill. Charge." And they lUd charge. Up that hill, under the fiery storm of shot and shell, through tlie abatis, over the rampart, into the fort, — a ghastl)', battereih bleeding few, to receive their Hag. — only a fragment of the regiment. The rest lay dead in heaps all up the slope; but they gave their lives gladly for such a thing as the honor of their regimental Hug, Young men, your [tri/e is higher and nobler than this. I leave the lesson with you. May you be able to say, though covered with scars in tlie conflict, "I have hmght the good light and obtained the victory, and tiie inunortal crown is mine." ,»ft onov to uid for Ml away uul pay I. And it be, — lowereil f honor. ement of fort was perilous But the ode (h)wu and said, that liiU. mder the (iver the liiio- few, reginuMit. but they honor of m this. I IV, thoun-h the good crown is CHAPTER X. I'UKVENTION HETTKK THAN OUKE — THE PATHOS OF LIFE — CIllLDUKN I50UN TO SIX AND SOlUtOW. Tell-tale years — A Modem Life of ^foses — IJndeiTatinR tlie Capacity of Cliiltlreu — A Boy's Idea of How Flics are Made — "I'uttiii' on 'em To- gether, and a-Fittin' of 'em" — Saving Half Fare — "Only Ten, in the Cars" — A New AVay to Sij;n the I'led^je — A Father who Would not he Outdone hy Ilis I>oy — A 'i'rne Incident — What the Jug Contained — Value of Children's Aid — An Incident from ]My Own Experience — Cries of Distress — A Peep Over the Fence — A Triumi)lial Procession — AVhat a Temiierance Hoy Accoiiiiilislied — An Army (Jllicer"s Story — Charity Children — A 'J'our Through a Tenement House — What was Discovered Under the liafters — A Dying Little Waif — Hiding from Father — Friendless and Motherless — An AtTecting Scene — The Dying Boy's Hymn — Death in a Garret — l\est at Last — IIow a Minister xirgued the Points — Convinced — Ood Bless the Children. T is a great work to save a drunkard. It is worth a life-effort to lift a man from degradation. Jt is worth a mighty self-sacrifice to raise a man, and enable him to stand as a man free from his --^ debasement and fetters; but to pre- vent his fall is far better. A boy, when asked, "Would you tell a lie for fifty dollars?" replied, " No ; because wlicn the dollars are gone, the lie will stick." Though we may reform a man from drunkenness, no one can ever fully recover from the eflects of years of dissipation and intemperance. You put your hand in the hand of a giant, ami he crushes it. You 230 i;i i I' i ji- ? i ■'. I iff h till I 240 CAPACITY OF CIIILDliEN'. shriek in your agony, and by and by, with a desperate effort, you draw forth your liand. It is cruslied and torn, mangled and bleeding. Tliat hand may be at last healed, but it will be a mutilated hand as long as you live. And so a man may be cured of this evil of drunkenness, but the marks are upon him, and will be to the day of his death. Many a man in perfect health has a face fearfully marred and scarred from smallpox ; the disease has gone, but the marks remain. Therefore it is a more important work to prevent than it is to cure. Now, one would suppose there would be no ojtposition to this work. But there are some persons who op[)ose every- thing that does not suit their own narrow views, or that they have not suggested, and so there is opposition. The great objection seems to be that " these children are led and enticed to sign the pledge, without appealing to their understanding." W" underrate the capacity of children to understand, — altogether underrate it. There is a kind of literature grow- ing out of an attempt to make the scripture narratives com- prehended by infant minds. You read the life of Jesus, the life of Moses, or the life of Joseph, to your boy of iive years from the Bible ; and if he does not understand these narra- tives he will understand nothing. And yet we have namby- pamby editions of the life of IVIoses after this fashion: — "Moses was a very nice little darling love of a child, witli blue eyes, and flaxen hair hanging over his shoulders, and little dimples on his knuckles, and the points of his fingers l)ink and beautiful ; and his mother loved her dear little darling child, and she found that bad men wanted to kill him ; so she made a basket of bulrushes, and called it an ark, and lined it with something to keep the water out and cotton wool to make it soft and warm, and pushed it out into the stream; and when the little child saw its mother stand- now FLli:S AHE MADE. 241 ! effort, t it will liiu may re upon I man in ed from remain, lian it is isition 10 so every- tliat tliey rhe great u\ enticed standing."* 'vstand, — lire grow- tivcs corn- Jesus, tlie live years ,cse narra- |vc namby- lion : — ■hild, witU ilders, and lliis lingers Idear little ed to kill lalled it an r out and it out into Ither stand- ing on the bank, it stretched out its dimpled hands with the little pink finger-nails, and the mother began to cry — ." And all such nonsense as that. Sir Walter Scott once said, "It is all folly to talk of writing down to the capacity of children. Give them something to grasp after, and they will grasp that which will astonish you." We often hear shrewd remarks from children, and we call them "haphazard."' But they are not. They are the result of a process nf reasoning, and 1 want to give you one or two illustrations. I knew two boys vcrj' Avell, — at least, I knew their father very well. One of the boys was about ten years old. His name was Willie, and the other, who was about six, was named Jamie. Jamie was seated on the iloorstep whittling a stick, as Yaid:i;u'.'- J wonder how God made liiiii."' That bus l)eon a woiuler to many. Professor Huxley cannot answer that question. No scientist can. "Jamie, how d'ye supi)ose God makes flies?" 'J'lie little fellow, wliittling away at his stick, said: "Why, Willie, God don't make Hies as carpenters make things, — puttin' on 'em together and alittin' of "em. God says, ' T>et there be flies,' and then there is flies."' Call that haphazard? No. Thiit ! J! if ^ f!li ( 111 '4 ' t i! hit f 242 LITTLE MIMICS. boy hud lieard or read tlie sublime passage, " God said, Let tliere be light, and there was light ; " and thence he reasoned out the creative power of the Almighty. I say again, we underrate the capacity of children. We forget that they have imitative faculties. A boy, when asked his age by a railway conductor, said : " At home I 'm twelve ; but mother says 1 'm only ten in tlie cars." I would not affirm that this is a general practice, but the frequency of such things is really suggestive. Conductors tell me tliat good-looking children, well-dressed children, educated chil- dren, are sometimes taught to lie for the sake of saving a luilf-fare on the railroad. Now, I ask, what is to be the honesty of the next genera- tion if this sort of thing is continued ? These children re- member, and we underrate their capacity to remember, and forget that they imitate. You do not wish to destroy the respect of a child for his father or his mother, do you? I glory in the boy who said : " I tell you wliat it is ; if my mother says a thing is so, it is so, even if it is not so." What a profound conviction that boy must have had of his mother's veracity ! One other illustration. A lady I knew, a godly woman whose husband was very profane, had a boy who was the light of her eyes, the pride of her heart. One day she heard him swear. She said to him, with her heart breaking; "My boy, you said a very naughty word, and you must ask God to forgive you." Well, he was obedient to his mother, but was a little sulky at the idea of confession. She followed him to his room, and he knelt down and said, in a very sulky tone : " Oh, God, I 'm sorry I said that naughty word, and I hope you'll forgive me, and I guess you will. But I want you to hurry and grow me up a man quick, so as I can swear lilce father does, and then you wouldn't care about my ■I'LL TAKK WHAT FATllEU TAKKS." 243 swearing- Lei a father liear tliat from the lips of his child, antl will he ever dare to utter a profane word in his hearing again? These children understand well enouirh. What effect will a father's precepts have upon a boy when he can say: "I wonder what makes father laugh and tell us how lie ran away from school, and [lut wax on the schoolmaster's seat, and plagued the other boys, and then turn round and shut me up and whip me when I just tried to be as snuirt as he was?" Ah, we underrate the capacity of tlic young to understand and remember. Kev. Charles Garratt, I believe, tells us that a little fellow of thirteen years of age sat at the table with his father. The waiter came round and asked him what he would take. There was wine on the table. "What will you take?" "I '11 take what father takes." The father had the decanter in his hand, just about to pour out the wine, and lu; dropped it as if it were lire. Laying his hand lovingly on the head of the boy, he said: "Waiter, I'll take water." Now, this is what we want, — that fathers, uu)tliers, brothers, sisters, and all who have inlluence with children shall lielp us in inspiring them with a hatred of that which never benefited a human being, and has brought many to destruction and jierdition. I know people tell us sometimes: '"It is no use working among children ; it is no use laboring with them. They do not understand what they are doing, have no ' lea what they are about. They will sign your pledge, and belong to your band of hope, and then they will break the pledge by and by." Why do you not raise the same objection against your Sunday schools ? You cannot make all your Sunday scholars C'hristians, can you? But there is a large proportion of them Mho do come into the church. And there is a large propor- tion of those who adopt the principle and join these bands of WW f *= 244 X CIllLir.S INFLUENCE. IT 1 i j 1 1 ijj h 1 I' ! Ei 4i ll 4 MM! : ^ 1 hope, and sign the pledge of total abstinence, who do keep it, for I meet them by scores almost every week of my life. A gentleman in the city of Boston, who was in the habit of using wine, was asked by one of his promising boys if he might go to one of our meetings. " Yes, my boy, you may go, but you must not sign the pledge." Now, in our cold- water army we don't allow the children to sign the pledge without the consent of their parents. We believe the boy's lirst duty is to obey his father and mother. Well, the boy came ; he was a noble little fellow, full of fire and life and ingenuousness. We sang and sang, and the chorus of one of the songs was shouted by the children ; — "Clicor up my lively lads, In spite of nun and cider; Cheer up, my lively lads. We've signed the pledge together." We sung it several times, and the little fellow I speak of sung it too. As he was walking home, however, the thought struck him that he had been singing what was not true : " We have signed the pledge together ; " he had not signed the pledge. When he reached home he sat down at the table, and on it was a jug of cider. " Jem," says one of his brothers, " Will you have some cider?" " No, thank you," was the reply. " Why not ? Don't you like it ? " " Yes, I like it, but I 'm never going to drink any more cider ; nothing that is intoxicating for me." " My boy," said his father, " you have not disobeyed me, — you have not signed the pledge ? " " No, father," said he, sobbing, " T have not signed the pledge, but T 've sung it, and that 's enough for me." That father come U}) to the temperance meeting, at which three thousand people were assembled, and told the I "THE IJEEU MOTIIElt MAKES." 245 story, niul said : " 1 '11 not Ix- outdone by my boy ; though I have not sung the pledge 1 will sign it." He did so, and is at the present day one of the truest and noblest supporters of the cause. Now, I like to see conscientiousness, and ciiildren are conscientious before they become \\arped and stultilied by contact with the world ; and if we can bring them to the right point at starting, we may feel assured they will go on, by God's grace, to a glorious consummation. Some persons say : " What is the use of let- ting a child of six or pledge ? They don't children under- stand a great deal more than we give them credit for. They do under- stand what is meant by the pledge and by temperance, and they understand, and often use, the arguments. I was once engaged in forming a cold-water army at Bangor, and a boy said to me, " If I sign the plv^dge, may I drink cider and the beer mother makes?" Now, I knew that what he called the beer made by his mother was a drink which was not intoxicating ; so I said he might drink that, but cider, — no. " Oh, well, I like cider," said he, and away he went. Other boys joined him, and they talked earnestly together. Presently he came back and said : " I '11 put my name down, I '11 sign." A gentleman in Virginia had a boy six or seven years old, "i'LT, XOT he OtTTDONK IJY MY HOY." 1 m i i 1 I i ■t ; 1 ■ * : •i . '■ i m I i': !i*i .1 ■- 1 i' I j ■ 1 !sli1: li li^._-^ fl !• r -li 1 246 A CANDID REPLY. who wanted to sign the pledge ; all in the family had done so, but the father thought liim too young and would not permit him. At last, however, after mach entreaty, permission was given. Soon after, the father went on a journey. At one stopping-place, away from a town, he called for some water. It did not come, so he called again ; still he could not get it, but cider was brought instead, and, being very thirsty, he drank that. When he returned home he related the circum- stance. After he hail linished. the little boy came up to his knee with his eyes full of tears, and he said, " Father, how far were you from James Riv >r when you drank the cider?" "Rather more than fifteen miles, my boy." "Well," said the little fellow, sobbing, " I 'd have walked to James River and back again rather than have broken my pledge." God bless the children I We have thousands such as these : children who understand the j^rinciple and keep to the practice. I sometimes wish the adults kept the pledge as well as the boys do. I said just now that the children understand the argu- ments. A lady who kept a school told me that when she was teaching spelling in a class, they came one day to tiie word "jug." "What," she asked, "do people put in a jug." " Rum," said a boy. " 1 ho})e," said the ladj', " none of you know anything of rum." "I do," said the boy; "my father drinks it, and I like it." At the recess, the other children gathered round that boy, and argued with such force that at last, as many older than he have done, lie backed against a wall and said. " 1 don't care if it is so ; I don't care if you are right." They do understand the argument. Children may be made glorious coadjutors in the ranks. The children in our country have been exerting an in- fluence outside of their armies ; they know well what is meant by sympathy iind benevolence. We have taught them that a drunkard is a man ; although lie is poor, miserable^ POWER OF SYMPATFIY. 247 and debased, and althougli he sometimes frigliteiis them, yet that he is a man, and was once a boy as pure and bright as they ; therefore we teacii the children that they should have sympathy with a drunkard who has a man's heart and sensi- bilitj'. I have approached the most hardened wretches, and have spoken to them in tones of kindness and sympathy ; and, although the eye was bleared and bloodshot, yet I could see the crystal drops welling up and falling down the bloated face. One man, I remember, lifted liis hands, and said, "I did n't know I had a friend in the M"orld." No power on earth is so debasing to a man as the power of diink, but we have taught the children to look upon the intemperate as human beings. On one occasion I was walking at the end of a procession. The band was playing, banners were Avaving, ihc girls wore medals, and the boys were shouting " Hurrah for cold water I " when I heard a sound of crying, which seemed to proceed from a field we wore passing. 1 looked over the bars, and there I saw a little, scantily-dressed boy on his knees, rul)- bing his eyes, and crying most piteously. I said, " What is the matter, my boy' " "^ly father won't let me go with the procession." "Do ydu want to go, then?" "Yes, l)ut my father AVon"t let me; may I go?" "No, you must not if vour father savs you must not." I left liim there and walked to the place where the ])roccssion had assembled. Jn address- ing the children I told them what 1 had witnessed, and observed how liappy and grateful they ought to be that they were allowed to take part in so joyful a scene. I contiuiied in this strain for a Utile time, when a man pushed his way throiigh the crowd up to the platform, and said, "Have you a pledge ? " " Yes," " I '11 put my name down on it." Then facing the children, he said, "That boy is my boy, and I told him this morning that he should not come up here; but I am Ifri:' I J ■if i 1 i r hi ■ i 1 248 A HAPPY SCENE. ^vil]ing that he sliould come now if you will liave him." "Have him?" shouted every boy, "we'll have him;" and away some scores of them started down the hill. I never saw boys run so before in my lite, and presently they were seen escorting the little boy in triumi)]i to the place where wo were. There thoy shook hands witli him, ami nothing would satisfy them but he must be lifted to the platform. There ho stood, twisting his old straw hal in his fingers, completely bewildered. A little giil put a medal round his neck, and all AN AltMV OFFICEK'W 8TOKV. 249 '.''k\i.% kvlieie we [i1 ijlf CHAPTER Xr. MY POSITION DEFINED — REASON AND REVELATION — THE CLTKTAIN LIFTED — TALES OE THE FALLEN. A Tltlotl Toll-Man — Learning versus Common Senso — Our Standpoint — An Actor with a Proud Record — Incidents of my Visit to Calit'oi-- nia — "Help Me Out of This Hell" — A Cry of Agony— " Urink 's My Curse" — Lifting the Curtain — Secrets of the Charnel House — My Inter- view with a Physician — " It 's No Use, I 'm a Lost Laddie, (Jood-liy " — A Clergyman's Sad Downfall — Employed as a Hostler in a Slatile — " You Know Who I Am, (lo Away from Me "— '• Lost! Lost! LOST ! " — An Explorer's Testimony — An Interesting Narrative — A Campaign Fidl of Hardship and Danger — Soldiers Without (Jrog — What they Endured — Sir Henry Haveloek's Report — Storming a Fortress after a March of Forty Miles — Sitting on a Hornet's Nest — A Roy's Com- position on a Pin — Stimulus not Slri'ngth. i i ! ! ■ 1 ! E know some i)ersons con- sider it u eoiidescensioii to piiti'oiiize us, but a good enterprise })atroiiizes every liuniau beiiinf that thoroufrh- 1}' enfjages in it : tliero is no stooping in tlie matter. Every man, I do not care is, wlio will sign the temper- ance jjledgc lor the benefit of his brother, takes a step upwards. We cannot stoop in doing a good work. Do you think tlie Duke of Buccleucli has taken a step down, because, in order to ])revent drink being sold in the toll- houses on his large estate, lie has taken those toll-houses into his own hands, and on every toll-gate has had painted: 250 jjl ♦ I A (iUANT) AND NOHLE ENTKHIMMSK. 257 "Walter Scott, Diiko of Huccleuch, toll-man?" Do you suppose he lowered himself in l)('eomiii}f a toll-man i'or the sake of liis neighbors, his tiuiants, and the community at large? He never took a higher step in his life. There is grandeur and nobility about our enterprise. Men call it tame and commonplace. It forms a grand epic poem such as the world has never read, and has not the i'i'cnlty to read to-day, of struggle, sorrow, degradation, triumph, and victory, with the assuraiuie that, in the; end, right will triumph and sit ujjon the tlinuic, and the wrong sh.'dl hv overthrown. 'J'hen let us stand by the right. And we claim thai we are riglil when we dcfino our position by declaring that total abstini'nce is hiirful. A gentleman said to me, "The Hible is against you." "Oh, no," I re[»lied. "Well, you have no command in the Bible to abstain." "Don't want one." 1 do not go to the liible to liiul a command, "Thou shalt abstain from intoxicating liquors." I do not seek for a command in the Bible to abstain from gambling, horse-racing, })rize-iighting, dog-lighting, cock-iight- ing, and all that sort of thing. As a Christian man, I abstain from these things, believing the n to be detrimental to the best interests of society ; and because 1 am a Chiistian it is not only lawful for me to do so, but an absolute duty. 1 give to these men all tlun' claim. I am not a learned man. r do not understand Hebrew or (Jrcek. Show me Hebrew words and Greek words and they are all Greek to me. But I have found out this: Tf a man is right according to the com- mon sense God has given him, he can stand his groinul if he does not go out of his depth. If I should pretend to deliver a i)hysiological lecture, knowing nothing of the science, and should attempt to learnedly discuss the effects of drink on the nervous system, the brain, or on the tissues, I might l)e iloored by a few hard 1 m |— ^^ ! m :'. { ;' i J i \ I'll: hi 11' I' < i' i)!: I. y. mn 258 MY POSITION nEFIXKD. words that I (In udt iiii(leistaii(l. My opponent may bo wrong unci 1 nuiy bo right; I got the kicks und ho gots the synipiitliy, becuusu I go out of my (U'[)th uiid attempt to arguo tlio point beyond my knowledge. There are men who have talked about the meaning of tirosh, and ynyin and oinos^ and other learned words, men who did not understand them, and who discoursed about the wines of Scripture, when an educated man could upset them in five nunutes. Well, " the Bible permits the use of wine." '' Yes." " Approves it." " Yes." " Our Saviour made wine." " Yes." " He drank wine." " Yes." " It is lawful to drink wine." "Yes; what more do you want?" We will grant yon, if you denumd it, that the I'/ible permits, sanc- tions, and approves its use, that the Saviour made it, and it is lawful to use it. 1 will give you all that, but I want to say, in delining my position, that every man wlin brings the Bible to sustain him in the use of drink must accept the Bible as a rule of faith and practice ; for it is mean, sneaking, cowardly, and contemptible to search the Bible for permis- sion to gratify a propensity, and then reject all God's require- ments. 1 s{)eak of the Bible argument to Bible believers and Bible lovers. I give them all they ask, and now I define my position in reply. With my views of Christianity and its claims upon me, by my allegiance to God, by my faith in Christ, by the vows I took upon myself in His presence and before His people, I am bound to give up a lawful gratifica- tion, if, by so doing, my example will save a weaker brother from falling into sin. That is my position ; can you take that away from me ? I will hold it, and take my stand upon it in the day of judgment. My principle, then, — judged from the Bible standpoint, — is a lawful one. I say again, I do not search the Bible for a command. I seek in the Bible reverently for a permission, it CIIKISTIAMTY ANO TEMPEUANCK. 2o9 " Yes." :nnt, — e for a lission, •s; and if I fiiKl (hero a permission to abstain, I act upon it as if it were a coinnuind, in view of the evil of drunkenness and that wliieh promotes a)id jjerpetuates it. Some persons will ask us, again: "What do j-ou expect to do with total abstinence? Vou do not expect by it to make men Christians, do you?" Oh, no. We have our gospel temperance associations, I know; but we do not expect that every man who signs the total abstinence pledge is to be at once a Christian. We cannot make men Chris- tians; no minister — however holy his life and earnest his preaching — can do that. When the disciples failed to cast the devil out of the boy while the Saviour was in the moun- tain, they told Jesus, and he said, "liring lum to me." Now, if my principle is a lawful one, and bj- it I can remove the hindrance to a man's hearing the truth, and be indirectly the means of bringing him to the Saviour, J demand the sym- pathy of those who love the Savicnn*. We ask your sympathy and co-operation. It has done this work, will do it, is doing it day by day. Some tell ns : "You are doing nothing more." We do not profess to do anything more. It is true we can- not say to a man: "You cannot stop drinking uidess you become a Christian," because he can. I have known men ■who arc not Christians, who have been abstainers twenty years. We do not go to a man and say, "If you do not be- come a Christian you cannot stop lying ; if you do not become a Christian you cannot stop swearing; if you do not become a Christian you caimot stop thieving; if you do not become a Clnistian you cannot stop drinking." I have more than once defined my position on this point, that the only absolute safety for a man who would reform from drunkenness or any other sin is a determined will and the grace of God ; all else is a risk. Our ])rinciple of total abstinence, then, is a lawful prin- J i w 200 A\ ACTOR'S STORV » ! f !l w. !■ :i if ;l I ■I F ciple. It is also a seiisihU' iniiiciple. Can you liiid luo u man who will say: "I am sixty years of arre, and I never drank a drop of inti)xicatiiig licjuor, and I regret that i did not learn to drink it when I was a young man?" Find uw. such a man anywhere. When I was in California, a gentle- man who was attached to a theatre called upon nie, and said: "lam no reformer. It is not in my line. Sunday -♦schools and temperance societies are very well in their way, hut they are not in my line. 1 have been an actor since I was eighteen years of age, and I am now forty-two, and 1 never drank a ^ dro}) of intoxicating licjuor in my \ life. What do you think of that? I am proud of it myself." He was no "howling dervish (d" a temperance lecturer." lie eared hut little for the ah- stract principle, but as to I hi' fact of ids own total absti- nence he said, " I 'm [)roud of it." Yet there were men who came to me in that city by the score. — I say it within bounds, — one of them the son of a well-known lawyer in New York, who, as he grovelled at my feet and clasped my hands, said : '' For the love of (lod, help me out of this hell!" "What's the matter with you?" "Drink's myciu'se!" Yes, that's it. It conies from the prison, " Drink 's my curse ! " It comes from your houses of correction, " Drink 's my curse I " It comes echoing from the lunatic asylum, "Drink's my curse I " It comes from tlu^ pale-faced wife and the starving children, " Driids 's my curse 1" It comes hissing hot through the black lips of the " niMNK "s MV ( IKS).; "DUrX \S MV CIMJSK." 201 )in llie illS(!S of (nii llie iin tlio "s my of tho 'M dying drunkard, "7)r//(/r\s tni/ cur»e /" And not a man who has escaped but to-day rejoices in tlie fact of liis eseiipe. Look at the wrecks of men to be seen on every hand. Oh, young men, I wish 1 could lift the curtain that conceals from your view the secrets of this charnel-liouse. A man about forty years of age, a graduate of Edinburgh University, eame to me and showed me his diploma us a physician. He was a lluent linguist and a verv cultivated gentleman. '* VOr K\(t\V WHO 1 AM. lUt ///(■ tiKtrh iciix vpo)i him. I was E .'Viy, /,/'.■<. ■ ..;.'*••>•••■' with him some time, and when he h^l't me be said, " I am very nuich obliged to you. Mr. (lough ; you liave told me the truth, but it's no use. Tiiere 's no help for me. Will you shake hands with me? I'm a. lost laddie : <''ood-bv." How many lost laddies are there to-day I Lost I loaf! A living man lost ! Ves. It *s a)i awfid sight to see a living man a /(>..'ow comes the pahiful part of my story. The wise men of those days — I lioi>e we shairnever have such another generation — began to say, 'Oh, but the poor soldier is without his grog; we must send hi)ii some grog I' The governor-general, who, of course, is the greatest man in all Jndia, very soon writes t) the conunissariat, and says, 'Make arrangements to send fourteen hundred camel-loaJs of rum into Afghanistan.' What was the consequence? From th;it day there were courts-martial, from that day men were guilty of striking their ollicers in the execution of their duty — coming under the frightful lasli — coming under sentence of transitortatiou for life, just for one act of passion, simply arising from drink, which they never would have AN ILLUSTRIOUS GARIUSOX. 265 iited hero. 1 raptinos 3 says. • 1 1 iznee was )icture of 1 sorts of ir and of not reach ougli the .vere con- was tliat or coats ; kill dress r iiKMcly y had to to inarch r sun at fore you lie wise another ildier is Tlic n in all • Make of mill •loits bdtli ill the open field and in the defence of the place. My good friends, the whole of that garrison were n^joii cold water. They did their work like men ; they worked all day, and they sometimes got only half, sometimes only (jnarter rations; they were in the ruddiest health; they were hungry men. but. blessed be God, tliey were never drunken men." Here is Sir Henry Havelock's account of it: — "Without fear of contradiction it may be asserted that not only lias the amount of the laborious work they have coni{)leted without tliis factitious aid been surprising, but the state and tlie garrison have gained full one third in manual exertion ])y their entire sobriety. Every hand has been constantly employed witli the shovel and pickaxe. If m III 266 SIR IIKNltY IIAVELOCK'S TF.sriMONY. ill ... .. ' t i .il j 1 i.ll. I \ {II -' there liad bfcii m spiiit latioii, one tliird of the hibor wouhl have been (liiiihiislicd in eunsequence (jf soldiers beconuug the iunuiles of the hospital and guaid-lKuises, or coming to their work with fevered brain and trend)ling hand, or snlky and disatfected after the protracted debanch. Now all is /waltli, rhec, •fulness^ huhiatt'ij^ and resolution. "The energy with which our troops labored in restor- injjr the defences exceeds all calculation, and bcti'Ljars ail connnendation. They worked like men struggling for their existence, but with as much cheerfulness and good humor as industry and perseverance. TIh'V had no rum to para- lyze their nerves, sour their tempers, or predispose them to idleness or sullen discontent. A long course of sobriety and labor had made nun of mere boys of recruits, and biought the almost raw levy, which formed two thirds of the array of the 18th light infantry, to the lirm standard of the Roman discipline. They are now instructed to entrench themselves nightly, as well as to light a battle every day. "It has been proved that the troops can nud(l extrac- Ivou boil ''A .ticking to [s it is, too. ivts of the lit as there t)f a knife ; >ar, he will Imtl loaf of i\ may say : beer than itluence ot lis that any m .r-'i gooil to him? Suppose a Imrse cannot start a very lieavy Iliad, and you say he sliall do it. You pull up the reins and slmut, and the liorse puts his shoulder to the collar, and strains with all his miglit, hut he does n't start. Your neigh- bor says he can't start, but you say he shall. You pull u]) the reins again ; the horsii puts his shoulder to the collar, every nerve stands out in hold relief; you take that big hhuk whip of yours, iind, as he is straining to the utmost, you hit him a terrible crack on tiie Hank, and he starts the load. lUit did you give him strength? No, you gave him stimu- lus; you made him do what he had no right to do, and what you had no right to make him do. So, as I said just now, any man who does work under tlie inlluence of stimulant, — whether in the coal pit or in the iion mine, whether at the forge or at the bench, on the platform or in the puljjit, — that he could not do without it, does it to the dannige of liis Constitution ; pay-day will come hy and by. Nature is a hard creditor; interest accunuilates. and when pay-day comes, the man is broken down far in advance of his time. I say there is no good in beer, but there is positive evil. Is there any gratification ? If there is, it is all in the time of drinking. Did you ever experience any gratification the next morning after a niglit of driiddng? The gratification wan produced by stinudating the system. Then there is a reac- tion, — it must come. My word for it, the beer and spirit drinkers enjo)^ less of this world's good than any other class of men among us ; they are either in fiery excitement, thoir brain bewildered, their senses confused, and their capacity to enjoy destroyed for the time being, or else they are recover- ing from excess of excitement, and feel most miserable and wretched. Then do not common sense and sound judgment dictate to you to abandon intoxicating lifjuors forever ? i / r] !•■ t '0 : if CHAPTER XII. WHO AIJE Tin-: VICTIMS? — LIFK IN A BAIt-ItOOM — LIFE IIISTOUIES TUACED IN TEAllS AND WIUTTEN IN IJLOOl). Tlio Next Miiniiii!,' After a Sprt'o — MiuUleiiiiiK Tliirst — A Visit fo a (iiii Sliop — Scenes Inside — N'ietims at llie Har — II()rrii)ie Wn^eks and Uloateil Sots — The Suicide's I)eatli-l)eil — Dreadful Scones — Tlie Kuliny Passion Strong in Deatli — " Mary! Mary! I Have Si;,'ned tlie I'led^;.- " — Tlie Sailor's Speeeli — A Healislie Dream — Life Histories 'I'raeed in Tears ami Written in Hiood — Women who Drink in Low Life — Fearful l)e),'ra- dation — The Dead Mother and Her IJalie — The Nef^ro Jury's IJidieulons N'erdiii — Women Who Drinic in lliiili Life — A Sad Story — An Awful Death — An Audience of Drunkards — James M' ' lu-rey — Invitiut; a Sot t'l Sleep in His House — IJurniuL; tlie lied Clothes Next Day — \ol)le Act of a Nohle Man — What Followeil — The Prize-Fiuihter's Story — Saved by Kindness — The History of a (irog-shop Fiddler — The Shipwreck — Man the Lifeboat! T is a rjross insult to call a man a i'odl. Every man wrmld i'os(Mit it. Hilt ill tlu! sutTcr- ino of the next inoriiing after a nioht of dissipation and de- bauchery, how then? Did yon never lie in your bed wondering how you came there, witli disturbed conscience, aching head, lips dry and jiarched, temj)les throb- bing, racking l)raiii, hot, feverisii tongue? Did you never, in tlie terrible suffering that is sure to follow a night of dissolute revelry, clasp your burning hands and bitterly call yourself "Fool! fool !" and add : "I made a miserable fool of myself last night, and now I am ■2H) ss»^^ TEUKIULE CRAVING FOR LIQUOR. 271 M — LIFE BLOOD. (it to a (iin iVri'fks mill - 'riic Killing . n.Mls;.'" — icimI in Ti'urs .;iltlll Dl'KI'il- 's RiiliouUms — An Awful iivitiiiL; ii Sot _ Noble Aft tnry — Saved Shipwreck — to call a i;iu would u; sut'tV'i'- mng after III and de- ■n? Did your l)t'd it'i'O. with iiio' lioad, )U'S throb- feveri.-sli lilt is sure IV burning dadd: "I now 1 mil -•^-fta suffering these nnuttera))le torments I What a fool I am! ''^ If the first ghiss brought at once the suffering of the reaction, and the excitement came the next morning, wlio wouUl drink? U delirium tremens came lirst, and the fun aftei', wlio would drink ? I\Iy friend, it does not pay to begin. First, yon tol- then toMcli and taste it; then jest and laugh ut it; and then revel in it. W h at nia y it CO lilt' to when it becomes your master ? A man will not tlien drink for sociability and with pleasant CO 111 pan io n s, but for the ex- citement ; not for the plea- sure of drink, hnt to (/et drunk. In solitude he ■will gul}) ilown glass after glass of anything that will gratify his morbid appetite, carrying licjuor with him in his pocket ; getting up in the night and crawling round in the