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 't^t 
 
 ARCHIE brow: 
 
 A Temperance Poem 
 
 A ■ 'i' 
 
 I 
 
 BY LINDEN CAri 
 
 Look not thou upon the wine when H is red."^'— 
 
 Phov. 23, 31. 
 
 Pont»aI: 
 
 JOHN uyyvuL t son. 
 
 1901. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In the following Poem the writer has endeavoured 
 to illustrate the journey of an innocent boy down 
 through the stages of petty vices, drink and disgrace. 
 Fictitious as " Archie Brown " and his life depicted in 
 these verses may be, the reader will no doubt agree 
 with the writer in feeling with regret that many a poor 
 drunken tram" would relate as sad a tale were he to 
 give a true account of his past life. 
 
 The nature of the Poem may suggest its being 
 used as a recitation, the reciter being disguised as a 
 drunkard of about sixty years of age. 
 
 Stanbridge, July, 1901. 
 
 ., 
 
 
 B.Q.R. 
 
 *^. 
 
^vchu '^vomn 
 
 A TEMPERANCE POEM. 
 
 BT LINDEN CARTER. 
 
 Young man, look at me, see this bloated face, 
 
 These bloodshot eyes, that wrinkled brow, and place 
 
 Your ear upon this breast. The beat within 
 
 Is muffled and irregular. How thin 
 
 These trembling hands that I can scarce command ; 
 
 My kiiees they totter, I can hardly stand. 
 
 W*< o.n I but a miserable wretch? 
 I ' • ', at evening I stretch 
 
 ."-T (imbs upon a mow of hay, 
 
 '.' ''< ^ again upon the coming day ; 
 
 Aiiu i<iJs in rags a horrid life I lead, 
 Regarding neither custom, law, nor creed. 
 
 You view me with contempt, you wonder why 
 
 I should exist at all, and so do I ; 
 
 Still, if it for no other purpose be, 
 
 'Tis this, perhaps— that you, young iran, may see 
 
 The fruits of sin, and seeing, you may know 
 
 That men must reap the kind of seed they sow. 
 
 55718 
 
Yoang mm, to full of hoi)C, to full of itrife, 
 
 Jutt entering the battle-field of life, 
 
 You mock me now ; but it is (or your take 
 
 Aloue that I thii sad confession make ; 
 
 Pray listen to my story, and beware 
 
 The tempting traps of Satan here and there. 
 
 Some sixty years ago a little boy, 
 A happy father's pride, a mother's joy, 
 Was full of play and mischief every day, 
 Nor e'er forgot each evening to oray. 
 As, kneeling by his mother's rocker, he 
 Would rest his curly head upon her knee. 
 
 Ah 1 could that mother but have known the fate 
 That did her blue-eyed Archibald await, 
 How willingly would she have seen those eyes 
 Closed in cold death to ope in Paradise, 
 How willingly would she have watched the bier 
 Move to the grave with one to her so dear. 
 
 The boy soon went to Greyville's little school, 
 
 Nor was he classed as anybody's fool ; 
 
 Well learned were all his lessons, and at play 
 
 He always was the hero of the day j 
 
 And there was none throughout the little town, 
 
 But could say something goo d of Archie Brown. 
 
 Time brought those glorious school-days to an end, 
 And Abram Brown decided he would send 
 His brilliant son to college, for said he, 
 " A boy of mine shall never work like me ; 
 Although our fifty acre farm it take, 
 A lawyer of our Archie shall we make." 
 
The form wu mortgaged, and with many tears 
 Young Archie left the scenes < bo /hood years 
 For other scenes where sin and woe are rife, 
 To realize his dreams of college life ; 
 Nor do we find as promising young men 
 At every turn as Archie Brown was then. 
 
 For some time all went well, but one away 
 From home and mother often goes astray ; 
 And so it ras with even Archie, though 
 No one in Grey ville would have thought it so ; 
 Strong was his will, but, ah I alas 1 too frail 
 To suy the foot that wooed the downward trail. 
 
 His ready wit and generosity 
 
 Made many chums, and hard it is to be 
 
 With those who smoke their flavored cigarettes, 
 
 At evening games will stake their trivial bets, 
 
 And find amusement at the theatre, 
 
 And be the " odd one " so unpopular. 
 
 His " no," so firm <it first, lost all its strength 
 And changed it ' a sheepish " yes " at length. 
 " No harm," he aigued, " if I never do 
 Things worse than these j so many do so too." 
 But there was conscience whispering within, 
 "This is the way that ruined lives begin." 
 
 " Beware 1 Beware ! " The voice seemed to say, 
 " To break a good resolve clears up the way 
 For breaking others ; Archie Brown, beware ! 
 How nicely woven is the Devil's snare ; 
 Once you have entered la will come to grief i 
 'Tis easier caught than 'tis to find relief." 
 
To pleue companioni and b« popuUr 
 
 He Iimoked. ptayed card., went to the theatre . 
 
 And wone than all, the alcoholic glaaa 
 
 Had found it» way up to hU hp«. WM ' 
 
 But what ii life en contcience mu.t reprove 
 
 A fellow for this or some other move ? 
 
 How easy 'tis to get from good to bad. 
 And easier still, from bad to worse, how saa 
 Ai ' thus it WAS with Archie who, to be 
 Lik. ellow students, came at length to see 
 Things he had once abhorred as far from right 
 In such an altogether different Ught. 
 
 It was to lesson study's heavy strain 
 That he had followed friends advice, agam 
 Broken a resolution firmly made, 
 Ana taken " lust a little wine to aid 
 
 For that which surely makes a man a suve. 
 Woe to the day when Archie in hi» ha'te 
 Emptied that wine cup and acquired a taste, 
 w"u:h ever since ha, clung with stubborn grip, 
 Like some huge monster clinging »« » '^'P' 
 With arms that tighten like a vice, whenever 
 To fr^dom gain its victim does endeavour. 
 
 Time passed away, ^n.' 'chie's final year 
 
 At college turneC his ^.-ients from the dear 
 
 Sid homestead; but without complaint they bore 
 
 It all believing better days m store. 
 
 For aU their hopes were centered in their lK,y. 
 
 Thdr boy who would so soon those hopes destroy. 
 
 K 
 
Thoie parenu mutt h*«re often wondered why 
 
 It was that hit expenies were so high, 
 
 But they were blind to the real, awful truth ; 
 
 And ilierefore did not realize the use 
 
 That was made of iheir hard earned savingi. Oh ! 
 
 Too late 1 Too late ! Were they desUned to know ! 
 
 Examinations came and Archie pasied. 
 With no great honors, for he came out last, 
 Jutt barely passing that w all. How queer ! 
 When he had passed so yi-.l each former year. 
 Not queer at all when one will stop to think 
 How fcarf'I are the changes wrought by drink. 
 
 He during the last year had sunk so low 
 That books and studies had been let to go ; 
 Instead his precious evenings had been 
 Spent at some club or in some hellish den, 
 Where games of chance and alcohol combined 
 Relieve the pocket and destroy the mind. 
 
 'Twas true that he had not lost all his pride, 
 'Tis true that shame had prompted him to hide 
 The truth behind some frail excuse, whene'er 
 He in the class-room had failed to appear. 
 Or similar offences had occurred ; 
 And thus the awful facts had been d - ed. 
 
 Twas Graduation Day, a date perhaps 
 
 More glorious to ambitious college chaps 
 
 Than any other ; but for Archie Brown 
 
 It had no charms. Thai morning he strolled down. 
 
 Cigar between his lips, to a saloon, 
 
 Unconscious of what was to happen soon. 
 
^ 
 
 What is the noise ? Oh ! 'Tis a drunken row ; 
 
 Just hear the swearing and the crashing ! Now 
 
 The door flies open, out into the street 
 
 Two men come tumbling and jump to their feet. 
 
 Like maniacs they at each other glare, 
 
 They gnash their teeth, and curses rend the air. 
 
 One deals a blow that brings a cry of pain 
 From his opponent's lips ; but look again ! 
 A pistol flashes in the air, a puff 
 Of smoke ! Oh Archie, is it not enough, 
 The life you lead, without this deed so black, 
 To which in sorrow you must oft look back ? 
 
 The man he aimed at was not hit ; but look ! 
 
 Another life that random bullet took. 
 
 " Help ! Help ! A man's been murdered!" was the cry 
 
 That came from those who had been standing by ; 
 
 And then before the fury of the crowd 
 
 That gathered round him drunken Archie cowed. 
 
 Policeman's shouts, ihe rumbling of the wheels 
 Of the patrol breaks on his ears ; he feels 
 The chilling clasp of handcuffs on his wrists. 
 And grinds his teeth and clinches firm his fists ; 
 And then grows deathly pale as though upon 
 Him his position just begins to dawn. 
 
 That afternoon within a narrow cell 
 A wretched man — you know him very well — 
 Lay sobbing like a child upon the floor, 
 And did not hear the grating of the door 
 As someone entered, " Archie " came a sad 
 But still familiar voice. Was he mad ? 
 
 i 
 
 
 .i>...'- 
 
 m^kiim 
 
i 
 
 He started up and looked about him ; there 
 His mother stood. Oh never could he bear 
 To look into those eyes again ; his head 
 He buried in his trembling hands, and said, 
 " Oh mother, come not near me, go away ; 
 'Twere better you had died than see this day." 
 
 " My boy, my darling boy ! " the woman cried, 
 And threw herself upon her knees beside 
 The trembling form. I am your mother still, 
 I loved you once, I love you now, and will 
 In spite of all that they may say or do, 
 In spite of all. Oh Heaven, is it true ? 
 
 " But Archxe, never shall your mother think 
 That you have done this awful deed ; 'twas drink, 
 And he who aold the cursed stuff, and those 
 Who vote for the saloon. Your mother knows 
 Her boy, her Archie is not all alone 
 Condemned by God for this that has been done." 
 
 " What has been done ? Oh mother, tell me all ! 
 Have I been dreaming ? Will this prison wall 
 Soon fade away ? Will I awake to find 
 Some dread illusion has preyed on my mind 1 
 Oh what a dream ! It seems as if I had 
 Been fighting, and was, oh, so mad, so mad. 
 
 It seems as if I drew my pistol out 
 
 And fired it, mother, when there came a shout 
 
 Of "murder"; then they brought me to this place. 
 
 But more than all that haunts me is a face, 
 
 It is the face of father, white with fear. 
 
 I must have seen him somewhere. Was he here ? 
 
 - i 
 
to 
 
 "My boy t My boy t How can I tell you all? 
 And still I must I Those things that you recall 
 Are not illusions ; they are all too true. 
 But Archie, more must I make known to you, 
 Though through my heart it pierces like a knife ; 
 That random bullet took your father's life." 
 
 And then she broke down and could say no more ; 
 The warden led her from the cell, the door 
 Was locked, and Archie was once more alone- 
 Poor half-crazed wretch, if he had but have known 
 The wiles of drink before it was too late, 
 And thus avoided such an awful fate. 
 
 This very day which might have crowned his name 
 With honor had, alas ! crowned it with shame ; 
 Those parents had this morning come to town 
 With hopes so high, and one, while walking down 
 The street, had seen a sight that must have chilled 
 His spirits. Yes I By Archie had been killed. 
 
 Killed by the hand of that unworthy son, 
 For whom so much he willingly had done. 
 Now, had that loving mother lived to see 
 Her boy, her Archibald that used to be 
 Her joy and hope, almost a murderer. 
 What greater sorrow could have come to her f 
 
 And now, young man, since that eventful day 
 Some forty long, long years have passed away ; 
 And still, no doubt, the tale of Archie Brown 
 Is oft related in the little town 
 Of Greyville, that the boys may warning take. 
 And never break the good resolves they make. 
 
 wmm 
 
 m 
 
I> 
 
 II 
 
 The old grandfather points with trembling hand 
 Towards the churchyard where two tombstones stand 
 To mark where Archie's long dead parents lie ; 
 And tells it over, how they came to die, 
 The one as you have heard, the other from 
 A broken heart before the snow had come. 
 
 And what of Archie all these years ? you ask. 
 To tell you all would be a tryinjs task ; 
 Suffice to say he is a drunkard still, 
 And soon expects a drunkard's grave to fill. 
 A cursed existence will have ended then ; 
 But, ah ! how different it might have been. 
 
 You now have heard my sad, sad story through ; 
 
 When someone hands the hellish cup to you, 
 
 May you remember all I've said, and think 
 
 A moment, ere the fiery stuff you drink, 
 
 If you would really like to travel down 
 
 The same old road I'm on — I, Archie Brown. 
 
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