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J. cui

BOOK-B
St. Catl

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DBLIVERID

ON VARIOUS OCCASIONS'' >
NIAGARA FAL^^S^ CAN AD..

^ €_

//.

JOHN B. GOITGH.

♦ ■♦■♦-

PcPLiSHED BY LYGHT & SCOTT, and for sale by
JOSEPH LYGHT, BcoKtELLKR.

HAMILTON :
A. Lawson & Co., PRiNTEiis, KiNO Strmt.

1867.

J. Cut
BOOE-B

St. Catt

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(■ ''■•

'.•£

PREFACE^

TwBLVR uoNTHS havo now elapsed Fiace Mu. Gouaii landed
on our shores. He came to us with an American reputa-
tion. The story of his life was familiar to us all. W%
had heard of his English birth — of his residence tht other
side of the Atlantic — how intemperance had clouded the
morning of his life, and blighted the promise of his spring.
We had heard how he had grappled with the enemy — how
the slave had burst his fetters and become free — how the
drunkard had risen up in all the glory of a man, and how
eaved from the bitter thraldom of drink himself, he had
devoted to the salvation of others an energy that never
tired, and a tongue that never grew cold or dull. We had
heard that multitudes listened to his voice, were melted
by his entreaties, and reclaimed by his advice ; that bles-
sings followed his footsteps — that the cities of the New
World hailed him as an Apostle — and that in mr-ny and
many a happy home his name was honored and beloved.
The friends of Temperance in England, therefore, were
anxious that here |hi8 powerful advocacy should be heard,
and all available means were employed to obtain in this
country the service" of the orator that had been found sa
potent amongst our brethren of the great Republic of the
West, — happily those means were successful.

Mr. Gouqh's first appearance on an English platform
was a decided triumph. It was felt that he was worthy
of his reputation — that fame for one*; had told the truth—
that he was the man for his work, the man for this country
and age. At once he became at homc-at once he established
his claims — at once his name was a name of power in every
corner of our land. The aged and the young, the mechanic
and the gentlemen, the educated and the ignorant, the rich
and the poor, the maids and wives and sisters, as well at

J. Cut
BOOE-d

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PREFACE.

tlie rougher sex, <'lustcred around his path, and hailed him
witli delight. lu all our great hives of industry and seats
of intolligeuce — in London and Edinburgh, in Liverpool
and Leeds, in Manehester and Birmingham — his voice has
been raised; nor has his mission been in rain ; the drunk-
ard has been reclaimed, the young and hopeful have been
brought over to the cause of temperance, and an impulse
has been given to the movement >vhich will never die ; the
faint-hearted have been encouraged, the weary have been
revived ; already the day of triumph seems at hand, already
we raise the songs and banners and trophies of our glorious
yictory.

The Publisher of the present volume hat collected to-
gether some few of Mr. Cough's Orations; they have been
revised by Mr. Golgii, and been made, as far as possible, his
very words. Others, from time to time, will appear. It is
hoped they may convey some faint idea of an eloquence
which every day wins fresh laurels, and may aid the cause
which Mr. Gouqh has so much at heart. The reader is only
requested to remember, that the printed word conveys but
a poor idea of the spoken one — that you cannot transfer to
paper the speaker's eye, or gesture, or tone; that what is
true of all orators, and truer of them the better orators they
are, is especially true of Mr. Gough — that to be appreciated
he must he lieard and not read ; looked at, as he stands in-
spired upon the platform, and not as the rf'porter gives a
feeble image of him on the printed \mge.

CONTENTS.

Habit — November 22, 1853 ... 1

The Importance of the Temperance Enter-
prise.— -2)ccemZ»er 27 . . . .16
An address to Children -—i>ecemZ>er 28 , 34
An Address to the Working Classes.-— 4p^*'^

24, 1854 : 4t

The Dangerous Drinkincs Customs.— -^d^riV 25. 70
The Evil of Drunkenness. — April 26 . .87
Importance of Female Influknce.— 4p^^^ 28. 103
Address to Young Men. — May \0 . . 118

Our Duty to the Intemperate. — Mm/ 11 . 137
jS re tiiey all Fools who become Drunkards ?

— August 3 . , . . .150

Who is my Neighbour ? — August 7 . .165

Prevention better than Cure. — August 8 : 180
The Power of Example. — August 9 . . 194

The Liquor Traffic. — August 10 . . 209

J. Cul
BOOE-E

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1»

J. B. (iOUGH'S

ORATION ON HABIT.

Delivered in Exeter Ilall, November^ 22nr?, 1853.

When I received the programme of the exercises of this
Association for tlie year, I assure you I felt a trem!tling at
the heart unusual for me, at seeing my name associated
with some of tlio greatest and most gifted men of thia
country, and wlion I felt that I had given my consent tu
speak before one of the most important Associations in
England, I may say in the world, the Young Men's Christ-
ian Association, London. I would indeed, have shrunk
hack from occui)ying such a position, were it not that I felt
the feeblest instrumentality might be made mighty through
the blessing of God, to do good. I am to speak to-night
upon Habit; but I have never been in the habit of arrang-
ing my thoughts previous to meeting an assembly. I did
think upon this occasion it was necessary to do so, and, for
the past three or four weeks, I have made the attempt, but
from speaking five or six times in the week, travelling,
writing letters, meeting committees, and other engagements,
I positively have had no time, and truly, if it had been
otherwise I know not tlKit I should have succeeded. I
come, therefore, before you, simply with the resulta of my
own experience and observation. I shall not attempt to
give you a literary entertainment or an intellectual feast
such as you are used to enjoy. I only come to tell you that
which I know, and to testify to that which I have seen in
reference to the subject under consideration. Time, my
friends, is too short, and that great day, for which all other
days are made, is too near us for me to spend time in speak-
ing of the t rm Habit, which opens in itself a continent of
thought. Habit 1 why we can hardly speak of anything in
connection with human life without speaking of habit I
We will, if you please, treat of habit under two classifica-
tions, — good habits and bad habits. I have found by my
own experience and by that of others, this difference between

J. Cuf
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tho two ; tliat a good ljal>lt ia hurdor to attain and easier to
give up than a bad one, — iiml this, to my mind, is an evi-
dence of the deep depravity of the human lieart. A good
habit required manliness, self-dern'al, and lirm principle to
acquire ; a bad habit is ju^t to yield to the eurreiit of plea-
sure witliout principle, thought, or care. This Association
is formed for the purj)<)Si! of exciting an influence to save
the souls of men, — and a higher j)()siti()n than that on tho
face of the earth it could not occupy. Therefore, in speak-
ing of evil habits, let m ; speak of those which, in my
opinion, are tending, more than any other, to the destruction
of man — soul and body. I hardly know how to begin this
subject, unle-^s I bring before you an illustration. Take,
then, a young man, coming from a pious home, coming from
all the tender, kindly associations wl.ith cluster around that
sacred spot — who has been taught to pray at his mother's
knee, lier soft warm hand resting g 'utly on his head while
he lisped his first prayer ; or take him from that nursery of
piety, the Sunday-school, with its priceles.s lessons written
on his heart— and bring him into this vast city, where
there is so much of good, and so much also of evil. Here he
is, between the two — evil intluences and good influences.
He goes into one of our shops, and becomes shopman or
clerk, or is otherwise engaged in business. I will suppose
him to have no i)articular religious principle, but that he
has been carefully taught religious truths ; and here I say
to you, young men, that the effect of early religious teach-
ing is an effect that is, in a great measure, a permanent
one — (hear.) I know myself th"c results of my own Sab-
bath-school instruction, and I remember the teachings of a
praying mother. That mother taught me to pray in early
life — ^gave me the habit of praying ; the teachers at tho
school strengthened it ; they stored my mind with passages
of Scripture ; and these things, I tell you, young men, wo
do not entirely forget. They may be buried, they may be
hid away for a time in some obscure corner of the heart,
but, by-and-by, circumstances will show that we know
much more than we thought. After that mother's death, I
went out into the world, exposed to its manifold tempta-
tions ; I fell. I acquired bad habits. For seven years of
my life I wandered over God's beautiful earth like an un-
blest spirit, wandering over a barren desert, digging deep
wells to quench my thirst, and bringing up the dry, hot
sand. The livery of my master had been to me a garment

of bu|

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the

stooi^

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consi

of burning i)oisoii. Bound with tho fetlorH of ovil liubit,
liiio an irorj net cncirclinf; nio in its fol<!s — fuscirmtud
witli my bondage, and yot witli a dcsiie — oh how fer-
vent I — to Hiand wIkto I had oncf! hoj»cd to stand. Sciven
years of <hukn(!ss, suven years ordi?^si;»ation, seven years of
Bin! Tliere I stuod. '< Ah !" :says one, " Wliat is tlie effect
now of a niotlier's ti'uching and of a mother's prayers, of
the Sunday-school, and (>f early good habits?" Oh! I
stood linic!, I rcMmnilter it well, feeling my own wi-aUness,
and thinking tliat the way of the transgressor is liard ;
knowing that tli»>' wages of sin was death ; feeling in my
heart of hearts nil the l)itteiiiess that arises from the
conseioiisuess of [lowcrs waskid and opjioitunities destroyed ;
conscious tliiit I had been cha-dng tlic 1 'ibble pleasure ; and
gain<'d nothing. There I stood. That mother had passed
to Hi aven, but her words came back to my mind. I re-
membir'dthat wlnii one night, in our garret, tin' ciindle
was f.iiling, and she said, "John, I am giowiug blind and
don't mind it mueli, but you are young. It is hard for yon :
but never mind, Joim, where I am going thire is no night.
There is no ncM-d of Miy candle theie, the Lamb is the light
tliereof." She had clK*ngi'd (hat dark gloomy garret to bask
in the sunshine of lusr Saviour's suiiles. ]»ut lu r inlluonco
was not lost. As I stood feeling my own wi.'akut'ss ; know-
ing that I could not resist temi)tation, il seemed as if the
very light sin- K ft as shi; jiasst-d had spaniKKl the darli gap
of si!ven years of sin and (llssi})ation, and struck the heart
and opened it. I frit utterly my own weakness; and the
passages of Siripture that were stowed away in my niind,
came itS if whispered again by the loving lips of that
mother into my ear. This was the infludnce of a mother's
teaching — (loud cheers). To the young man I have ima-
gin- <I, sulIi an Association as youis olf-.-rs, in its fratinnal
emiujice, a protiction, drawing him into a circle that shields
him from tlie evil influences surrounding him in a tity of
snares. I sometimes believe that not only is there a fight
in heaven, but also on earth, for the souls of men ; and
imagine that the army of the fold fiend is drawn out in
array on this earth to fight against every good influence,
and it. is by presenting vice in its most attractive forms. A
miiiiste:' once said to me, " If every young man woidd only
writ: up over liis office door, or any }>lace where he would
be sure to see it, just this simj)le line, 'No man was ever
yet lost on a straight road,' there would be Kss going astray.

J. Cul
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it <

B!'

There is but one right voafl, and ovory other leads out of it."
Good liabits are a straight "oad, und all others lead to
destruction. I will speak now of one bad habit in particu-
lar, unC that is, thinking wrong. Perhaps the young visitor
to London, whose (ase I have imagined, may be invited by
some friend to go to the theatre. I know some people
say that the theatre is not necessarily a school of vice ; but
in my experience, young men, 1 have found that in the
theatre, piety and religion and virtue are almost always
held up to ridicule. You take the praying, consistent
Christian; if such an one is represented on the stage, he is
represented as the sneak, a mean fellow, as a prying Cant-
well, or Mawvvorm, whereas the dushing, reckless, scdnc^ng,
high-liver is presented as a gi^ntlenian with every noble
quality under the sun. The young jnan f'-esh from home
sees thesti representations ; he does not see the grosser vices
or hear the bold word of blasphemy — or tiiey w^ould startle
him, and he would not go again. But he hears the covert
sneer at serious thoughts, and quotations from Scripture in
terms of ridicule and contempt. To pray is to cant, to be
conscientious is to be a sni ak, and to be consistent is to be
ft fool. He sees all this. Perhaps it startles him !it first;
but there is music, antl flashing lights, and splendid elocu-
tion, or fine dramatic power, and — if of an excitable tem-
perament, or fond of eloquent declamation or oratory — it
has its charms, and he goes again an I again. What is the
effect ? Its first eff"ect is to break up the good habit of
prayer — (iiear, hear). I have ever found it so in my own
experience, Miid in the experienc(! cf others. I never yet
"Went to a theatre and then knelt down to pray that night.
No, not <;ver in my exi)erience. Ag. in, it brings liim into
the excitement of the world. Ho lives in a world of ex-
citement. I often think, as 1 see it inscribed in our tht atres,
that they "hold the mirror up to nature;" that mirror is
either concave or convex, or a poor piece of plate-glass, for
I have seldom seen Nature represented there except very
much distorted indeed — (hear). The young man, I say,
lives in a world of excitement, and then the services ot the
sanctuary and the prayer meeting become to him tame-
are not exciting enough. What is the evident consequence
of this? I believe, young men, I believe that most of the
scepticism, so-called in this land, is produce(^, first, by the
deviation from the right way, and then from the conscious-
ness that the way is a wrong one, and a desire to get :id of

out of it."
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the nspon.sibilify. I don't mean that bold, brazen infidelity
wbich o])eii]y says tliat God is nir.iter, and that there is
nothing else. I don't mean the atheism wliich prompted
the poet bhelley to write in the Album at Mount Anv^ra
*^ AtheoSj^' but tlie rejection of the religious truth suHicit-nfc
to lose a man his soul. Let the young man break the fcJab-
bath, or go into our drinking saloons, casinos, or other such
places of public amufsement. He kncws he is doing wrong.
Now, there is no happiness without perfect security, and we
are plac<'d hen; in this world to bo happy. Sources of enjoy-
ment are above us, about us, beneath us, 'i'o be happy !
Capacities for enjoyment, worthy of God to give ami man to
receive. Young nun ! did you ever, in your life, stand up,
and, clapping your hand to your breast, say, "I am a man,
and not an animal ?' Tlu-rt- is no loveliness in the flower
to the mere animal, but there is? to me ! Tliere is no beauty
in the lan<i.sca[)e to ilje mere animal, but there is to me!
There is no glory in the sun;;et to tin; mere animal, biit
there is to me ! I see day go out in a flood of glory ; I see
the clouds tinged with the gt)lden light, and my heart
glows with a conscituisnciss of Ciijoymi-nt ; but the mere
an mal lifts its dull eyes, and gazes around with brutish,
meaningless look, and sees no beauty. No I there is no giaa-
deurihere, — no sul'limity, no biaiity there Where, then,
is it? Here! — (clap[)ing liis breast )— (Loud cheers.) Here;
— in my soul,— an urn full of light, shedding rays on all cre-
ati'.n, and making it beautiful. Sublimity tabernacb's not
in the chambeis of thunder, nor rides upon the lightning's
flush, nor walks upon the wings of the wind, but in man's
Si)ir t U[) there yoking ilst If with the whiilwiud, riding
Ujion the northern blai-t, scatti ring grandeur and giory
around it on its upward, wondrous, ending way. But there
ar<- other soijrees of enjoyment that God has given to us.
Take sonn; gloiious book, and as you converse with the
Spirits < f the departed, turn over leaf after leaf, your body
ht re, but your spirit roaming in n gions hitherlo unexplored
by y u. Take God's book, that Holy book, and nad it year
after year, and you will always find something new and
delightful and sublime. It never is an old ' ook where one
reafls it looking and \vi^hiIlg toenjov it. We are all seek-
ing for eiijovnii nt, and it is a lawfnl seeking, — but there is
Do liapi)iness, us I .said, withont [lerfect security. The proverb
Bays that the li. hteous "has hope in his d. ath," — but some
will say, the infidel, the nn re worldling, has hope, yes, but

J. Culi I
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i i

( ,

lil

th(dr only liojx^ is that the Bible is not truo. The Chris-
tian is the only being on the face of the earth that can
meet death with a smile, and cari have hope in his death,
fnlly believing in the inflexible justice of God. I and my
companions had acquired bad habits. Wa felt ourselves
unsaft!. We had heard and knew of those who believed
that God was too merciful to punish us eternally for the
sins and evil deeds extending over so short a space of time
as the human life, and we thought it an exceedingly comfort-
able doctrine, if we could only get hold of it so as to be
satisfied of its truth. I know that we glared greedily over
the Bible to find a peg to hang a hope upon, that we might
hold our enjoyments that were sinful. We tortured par-
ticular texts, and stretched certain pnssages, but I for one
could never find it — (hear) The next point was — for man
is progressive — he must be goirg on, — he cannot stand still
—-he is either getting better or .vorsi^, — we began to destroy
or to attempt to dtjstroy the conviction wc; had that the
Bible was true. There it was said, " Rejoice, olt young man,
in the days of thy youth," and so on, — but •' remember
that after all these things there cometh judgment." We
did not like that. "The soul that sinneth, it shall surely
die," — we did not like that. We could not enjoy ourselves
as we wished, believing that. We must undi^nnine it, — and
how did w^e set to work ? We put on one side every evi-
dence of Christianity,— went to v/ork to pick flaws in the
characters of professors of religion. " How inconr,istent,"
we said, " is such a man I How short he falls of his profes-
sion!" And then we took to Volney and Voltaire, and
Taylor. We strove to cram ourselves with scriptural errors
and contradictious, as a boy at school crams himself with a
particular branch of study before an examination. In
such a way we crammed om-.selvcs with infldel sentiments ;
we drugged conscience with bad habits, and then walked
out into the world, full-fledged infidels, just as I verily
believe nine hundred and ninety-nine out of every thousand
of the so-called sc(!ptical young men of London do at this
day. We tried to make ourselves believe that we didn't
believe, and couldn't. Theri'fore we got very angry at every
influence that disturbed us, and sj)at our venom on the
Bible, the religion of the Bible and its ministers. Now I
maintain tluit scepticism was enirendcned in us by the
power of evil hal)it having become a fascination. These
evil habits are, in my ojiinion, the inljiu'nces and instru-

The Chris-
h that can
I his df^ath,
I and my
t ourselves
ho believed
Lily for the
ace of time
riy comfort-
=io as to be
^^edily over
we might
itured par-
' I for one
I — for man
stand still
to destroy
I that the
'oiin^nnan,
rcmeml)er
cnt." V\^e
lall snrely
ourselves
10 it,-— and
every evi-
iws in the
insistent,"
his profes-
Itaire, and
iral errors
^■If with a
ion. In

ntiments ;
•n walked
^ I verily
thousand
lo at this
we didn't
' at every
M on the
Now I
IS by the
These
d instru-

mentalities which are doin^^ more than anything else to ruin
men's souls. I have si)oken of the habit ot thinking, and of
the habit of visiting scenes of demoralization. 1 will now
speak of anotli(!r halnt, which I believe is, more than any
other, debasing, and degrading, and embruting to a man, both
pliysically, intellectually, and morally. I am not going to
give you an aildress full of my favcr.te theme, but I must
speak of it. 1 must si)eak of it before this assembly, for
I shall never sec you agaiu till we meet on that day when
we shall sec things as they are. Let me speak of one habit
which, in its power and inllucnco and fascination, seems to
rear its head like a Goliah or Saul above all its kindred
agencies of demontlization, — I alludo to the habit of using
intoxicating drinks as a beverage, until that habit becomes
a fascination— (cheers). You will allow me to give my
opinions upon thes(; points freely. I consider drunkenness
not only to be a moral evil, but also a physical evil. A
l)hysical evil ; and it depends a great deal more upon the
tem[)erament, and constituiion, and disposition of the
young man, whether, if he falls into the drinking usages
of society, it becomes a habit or not, more than it does in
his strength of mind or firmness of purpose. Plere is an
illustration which I have used more than onco, and when
I find a better I will give it up. Take three young men,
— place them in the same position in society — in the same
establishment if you please — and I will ask you which of
the three is most liable to form the habit of drinking
intoxicating liquors. Let me describe them We often
meet men amongst us of a cold, phlegmatic temperament;
they seldom laugh or cry about anything. They have
feelings as other people, but are moderate in all their
manifestations. Constitutionally moderate men. They
have always been moderate, and always will be. They are
very much like a lot of tunes boxed up in a barrel organ.
Turn the haudle, and you get the tunes without a variation,
for twenty years, save, perhaps, a few cracks in the notes;
nothing else — (laughter). That man's temperament stands
between him and excess. He always wants a joke explained
to him before he appreciates it. He is moderate in his
affections, and it is very hard to offend him. Sharp, indeed,
must be the arrow which can penetrate the thick bosses of
his impenetrability. This man may use intoxicating liquors
without injury. I am not speaking, observe, of converted
men I read in the Christian Almanac, the other day, of

J, Cullii

St. Catj;

an old gentleman who said to his friend, " I have drunk a
bottle of wine a day for twenty yeans, and have enjoyed
good health." " Ah !" said his friend, " but where are
your companions ?" " Oh 1" was the reply, " T have buried
six generations of them." Yes, young men, that's it —
(hear, hear). Let many here to-night look back upon the
fate of the companions of their youth, let the long fingers
of the memory draw into that memory's chamber the forms
of those dear friends, and how many would they find have
gone to death and destruction through a bad habit working
with an easy temperament. Take another man. Ho shall
be close-fisted, and mean, and shabby. He shall be of a
calculating turn of mind, always looking out for the main
chance. Such an one as he who, upon a certain occasion,
got up before a Christian congr..gation at Albany, New
York, and boasted how cheap it had been to him to be the
member of a Christian church. "Brethren," s.aid he, "I
am happy to say I have been a member of this diurch for
ten years, and that it has cost me but two shillings" —
(laughter). The minister who heard this, rose, and address-
ing him, said " Then the Lord have mercy upon your poor
stingy little soul" — (laughter). Take a third young man,
and he shall be full of fire and poetry. He shall be of a
nervous temperament, and generous heart; fond of society,
and open and manly in everything he does. Every one
loves him. That is the man most liable to become intem-
perate. He enters into the outer circle of the whirlpool,
and throws care to the winds. There he thinks to stay,
but he gets nearer and nearer to the fatal gulf, until he is
suddenly swept into the vortex before he dreamed of danger.
This thing, habit, comes gradually. Many a man who has
acquired a habit, but does not exactly proceed to excess, is
rescued simply by possessing ceitain physical qualities
which his poor unfortunate friend had not. You say you
are not such a fool as to become a drunkard. So he thought
once. You say, " I can leave it off when I like," as if he
at first had not the power to leave it off when he liked.
You say, " I have too ^?ound an intellect to become a
drunkard," as if he was born without one. You say, " I
have too much pride in myself, too much self-respect," as
if he were not once as proud as you. The way men acquire
this habit, is by looking on those who proceed to excess, as
naturally inferior to themselves. The difference between
you and a drunkard is just this, that you would leave oft'

five drunk a
lave enjoyed
it where are
have buried
that's it —
k uj)on the
lon^ fingers
ii' the forms
y find have
hit working
. He shall
lall be of a
>r the main
in occasion,
bany, New
1 to be the
said he, "I
church for
ihillings'' —
nd address-
your poor
oung man,
lall be of a
of society,
Every one
me intem-
whirlpool,
ks to stay,
until he is
I of danger,
in who has
3 excess, is
I qualities
5U say you
he thought
!," as if he
be liked,
become u
>u say, "I
jspect," as
tn acquire
excess, as
B between
leave off

the habit, but won't; he would with all his heart and soul,
but cannot. I will put the strength of the habit to the
test. You say you can leave it when you pU-ase. Now I
know you can, and that tbih is said with regard to the
acquiring of this and of all bad habits. A man smoking
two or three cigars a day suys, " I can throw it away when
I've a mind to." When I hiar young men saying this I
almost make up my mind that they nrvtr intend to give
it up. This power of habit is gradually increasing and
destroying your power of self-control. Samson was bound
three times, and when he heard the cry, " The Philistines
are upon thee, Samson," three times he burst his bonds.
But he fell into Deliliih's bands, he laid his head on her
knees and she took off his locks. Tlun came the cry,
"The Philistines arc ui)on thee, Samson," and he arose and
said, " I will go out and shake myself," but bij^ strength
was gone. God pity yo;. young man, if ever you begin to
feel the fetters of evil hab." galling you, and you go out to
burst them and find ihem welded iron barxis eating into
the marrow until you cry in agony of spirit, " W\\o shall
deliver me from the slaveiy of evil habit?" A man's
power to do a thing is valueless unless he have tlie will to
exercise that power. Suppose I lay myself <in the trams
of the railway. You come to rouse me, and T say, " You
mind your own business; I'm not fool enough to be run
over : I can get up when I choose," A train conies thun-
dering along and cuts my body in two ! Wby, I am a self-
murderer ! I had tl'.e power and the warning; 1 refuse to
exercise that power, ar)d go belon; God a suicide ! T tell
you, y<'ung men, that while the power of a bad habit strips
you of nerve, and energy, and freshness of feeling, it does
not destroy your responsibility. You are accountiib'e to
God for every power, and talent, and influence of position.
Although the power of evi' habit destroys your power of
good, yon are as accountable for it as if you had put it
forth, and then, too late, you will find the wages of sin is
death. « I can quit it, but I won't!" If you say, "Sbould
I find it by experience 'o be injurious, I will give it up,"
surely that is not common se!ise. Such is the fascination
thrown around a man by the power of evil habit, that it
must have essentially injured him before he will consent to
give it up! Many a man has been struck down in his
prosperity, has been senr to pris- n for (rime, before he
acknowledged tliat his evil habit was injuring liim. You

J. Cul
BOOK-I

St. Cat'

: t

! i

miglit as well sny, "I will put my han<l into the nest of
tho rjittlesiijikc, "and when T lind out tlu-t lu; luis struck his
fangs into me, I will draw it out and g(;t it cured " I
rcniemb, r riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Falls, and I
said to a gentleman, " What river is tluit, sir ?"—" That,"
he said, " is Niai;aia rivtr." "Well, it is a beautiful
stream," said I ; " bright, and fair, and glassy ; how far off
arc the ra^iids?'" — ''Only a mile or two," was the reply.
" Is it possible that only a mile from us we shall find the
water in the turbulence which it must sliow when near the
Falls ?'' — " Vou will find it so, sir." And so I found it ; and
that first sight of the Niagara I shall never forget. Now
laui.jh your bark on that Niagara river; it is bright,
smooth, beraitiful and glassy. There is a ripple at the
bow ; tlic silvery wake you leave behind adds to your
enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, and
helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure
excursion. Suddenly some one ciies out from the bank,
"Young men, ahoy!' — "What is it?" — "The rapids are
below you," — " Ha, ha ! we have heard of the rapids, but
we are not such fools as to -get there. If we go too fast,
then we sliall up with the helm and steer to the shore ; we
will set the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed
to land. Then on, boys; don't be alarmed — there's no
danger," — "Young men, ahov there!" — "What is it?" —
" The rapids are below you." — " Ha, ha ! we will laugh and
quaff; all things delight us. What care we for the future ?
No man ever saw it. Sufficient for the day is the evil
thereof. We will enjoy life while we may; we will catch
pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment : time enough to
steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly with
the current." — Young men, ahoy !" — " What is it ?" —
" Beware ! beware 1" The rapids are below you." Now you
see the water foaming all around. See how fast you pass
that point ! Up with the helm ! Now turn ! Pull hard !
—quick! quick! — pull for your lives! — pull till the blood
starts from the nostrils, and the veins stands like whipcord
upon the brow ! Set the mast in the socket ! — hoist the
Bail Ah, ah 1 — it is too late. Shrieking, cursing, howling,
blasphem ing ; — over you go — (great applause). Thousands
go over the rapids every year, through the power of evil
habit, crying all thfc while, "When I find out that it is
injuring me, I will give it up." The power of evil habit,
I repeat, is fascinating, is deceptive, and man may go on-

the nest of
struck his
Hired " I
'iills, and I
"— " Thiit,"

I beautiful
how far off

the reply,
ill find the
n nt-ar the

II nd it ; and
i-get. Now

is bright,
)ple at the
els to your
, flails, and
ir pleasure

the bank,

rapids arc

•apids, but

:o too fast,

shore ; we

and speed

^there's no

is it?"—

laugh and
he future ?
is the evil
will catch
enough to
iftly with

is it?"—

Now you

you pass

iPuU hard!

the blood
! whipcord
-hoist the

, howling,
Thousands
wer of evil

that it is
evil habit,
Day go on-

arguing and coming to conclusions while on the way down
to destruction. Let us look at the position of a man who
is the the slave of a bad habit. There he stands, and we will
bring Ix-fore him a vision. Here, before me, stands a bright
fair-haired, beautiful boy, with the rosy cheek, and curling
lock, and ruby lips, and round limb, the type, the picture
of human health and beauty. That is youth, that is his
past. Another tiguro shall stand before him. The youth
grown to the man. intellect flashing from his eye, his brow
speaking of intellectual strength, as he claims for himself
an influence over the hearts and feelings of his fellow-men,
There he stands — a glorious being. That is your ideal.
Then gropes in a wr(;tchcd thing, fetters on his limbu, his
brow seamed, sensuality seated on his swollen lip, tlie imago
of God marred. What is that? That is hiS present. Ho
shall see another vision : it is a wretched, emaciated crea-
ture ; you see his heart is all on fire, the worm that never
dies has begun its fearful gnawings. What is that? It is
his future — (cheers). The power of evil habit docs not
destroy his consciousness. The curse to the man who is
going down step by step, is the remembrance of the past.
All the bright dreams of his invagination are before him,
yonder, separated from him by a continent of grief and
disappointment, pain of body, and fever of spirit. Distant,
clear, but cold, is the moon that shines on his waking
agony, or on his desperate repose — (cheers) I believe a
merciful God has set a ban upon certain pursuits, which to
follow for enjoyment would be ingratitude. What has the
man been doing who all his lifetime has been the slave to
evil habit ? He has spent his life and his fortune— sold his
birthright ! And what has he obtained ? Nothing but the
mere excitement of chasing alter that which is n(>t reality.
A man talk about enjoyment in these pursuits ! There is
none. It is merely momentary and imaginary. No man
ever receiv* d satisfaction enough in wicked pursuits to say,
"Ah! now 1 am happy." It is gone from him. All the
enjoyments that can he obtained in this world, apart from
the enjoyments God has sancticmed, lead ;.o destruction. It
is as if a man should start in a chase after a bubble, at-
tracted by its bright and gorgeous hues It leads him
through vineyards, under tnllist d vines, with grapes hang-
ing in all thiir purple glory; it leads him by sparkling
fountains with delicious music and the sinking of birds ; it
leads him through orchards hanging thick with golden

J. Cui
BOOK-i

St. Cat

rii!

I ;

ifii;

'■I

fruit. He laughs and dances. It is a merry chase. By-
and-hy that excitement becomes intense ; that intensity
becomes a passion; that passion a disease. Nov his eye is
fixed upon the bubble with fretful earnestness. Now ho
leaps with desperation and disappointment. Now it leads
him away from all that is bright and beautiful ; from all
the tender, clustering, hallowed associations of by-gono
days, up the steep, hot sides of a fearful volcano. Now
there is pain and anguish in the chase. He leaps and falls,
and rises, bruised, scorched and blistered ; but the excite-
ment, the power of habit, has the mastery over him ; he
forgets all that is past, and in his terrible chase he leaps
again. It is gone. He curses, and bites his lips in agony,
and shrieks almost the wild shriek of despair. Yet still he
pursues his prize. Knee-deep in the hot ashes, he staggers
up with limbs torn and bruised, the last semblance of
humanity bcbrched out of him. Yet there is his prize. He
will have it. With one desperate eilort he makes a sudden
leap. Ah I he's got it now ; but he has leaped into the
volcano, and with a burst bubble in his hand, goes to
his retribution — (great applause). Every man possesses an
evil habit who follows and is fascinated by an enjoyment
God has not sanctioned. Heaven pity such a man ! He
barters away jewels worth all the kingdoms of the erath,
and gains for them — a burst bubble! An Indian chief
bartered away costly diamonds for a few glass beads and a
plate button. Young men are every day bartering away
jewels worth all the kingdoms of the earth for less than a
plate button. I have for the last few days been visiting
various places in your great city in company with a com-
mittee. There is one place where young men assemble, and
I tell you it was to me a fearful and appalling sight. In
an immense room, capable of holding some 1500 persons,
was a fine band of music, and fine young men, gentepl in
appearance and many of respectable parentage. Some of
them were known to my friends. There, they said, is a
young man connected with such an establishment, and so
on. And what were they doing ? In one room the tables
were set out with sparkling wine, but what were the young
men doing? I will tell you. Kight before the assembled
crowd were many who had no more shame left, than to
dance boldly and openly there with women of the town. I
said, "But are they not ashamed of it?" "Ah." wa« the
answer, "three or four glaisK 'S ct wine acj^troy fsjiauie."

;hase. By-
it intensity
^ lii.s i;ye is
Now ho
ow it leads

; from all

of by-gono
ano. Now
3S and falls,
the excite-
ar him ; he
so he leaps
>s in agony,
Yet still he
he staggers
mblanee of

prize. He
es a siidden
d into the
id, goes to
lossesses an

enjoyment
man ! He

the earth,
adian chief
eads and a
;ring away
[ess than a
icn visiting
th a com-
lemble, and

sight. In
)0 persons,

gentepl in
Some of

said, is a
3nt, and so

the tables
the young

assembled
ft, than to
e town. I
." wa« the
)v .sliume."

There were young men there who would never have been
seen in such society, pride of character alone would have
prevented it, if they had not been stimulated by the wine.
The habit of drinking is, I believe, more demoralizing than
any one o''ier evil habit in the community. There are
scenes which I cannot here speak of, but which bear directly
for evil upon our young men, and I mourn as I think of
the store of bitterness they are laying up for themselves,
for if saved, it must be as through fire. Let them mingle
with the vile and impure, let them hear the word of blas-
phemy or obscenity until they get accustomed to it, and I
tell you a lodgement is made in the heart, of influences
which he will feel to the day of his death. I was speaking
in this way to some children of a Sunday-school, when a
clergyman, an old man, too, said to me " You are right, sir.
Some gentlemen had been engaged in drawing up statistics
of New York ; I went and looked over them, and I assure
you, as I am living, that I would give my right hand to
forget what I saw." I would give my right hand to-night
if I could forget that which I have learned in evil society,
if I could tear from my memory the scenes which I have
witnessed, the transactions which have taken place before
me. You might as well try to take a stain from the snow
as to take away the effect of a single impure thought that
has lodged and harboured in the heart. You may pray
against it, and, by God's grace, conquer it ; but it will alwayi
be a thorn in the flesh to you, and will cause you bitterness
and anguish. I have been speaking of evil habits in
connection with ray theme of intemperance, and I be-
lieve the l-emedy of every bad habit is simply to aban-
don entirely what produces it. If you have a habit of
thinking badly, get a good book and pray over it, and bend
your mind down to the study of it. *If you have acquired
the habit of using intoxicating liquors as a beverage, then,
I say. avoid entirely that which is producing that habit.
But some may say, " I use intoxicating liquors but have no
habit of it." Let me say to you, not as a teacher, not in
the form of dictation, but with all kindliness of feeling, —
try a test. You are your own master ; you can take up the
bottle as the Indian did, and dash it to pieces, saying, " I
am your master," — or, it is your master. Well, then, the
next time you feel any desire for stimulants, let them
alone. See how much you want it. Go about your busi-
ness. You feel something is wanting. You are nervous.

J. Cui
BOOK-1

St. Cat

14;

"I believe T must take just a little." — Let it alone. You
fancy you are not iiltogetlier well,' and must take some-
thin^r, and j)erhMj)s thu doctor would encourage yon. — Let
it alone. What follows ? Wliy, some who say, "I have no
haMt" will have to work nigljt and day for a month to
OTercome the desire for it. That is but the beginning of
the apj)ctite Avhich becomes, in some, the master. I ask
you, — Do you not use more now than you did five yearsago?
If yon do, — in five years to come what will you be ? — (hear.)
Let me say that I est(!em it to be the highest privilege
to speak before you to-night, and to have been listened to
with such polite attention. My heart is with you all, and
my prayers to God shall be, that you may be eminently
successful in drawing nnrabers of young men into the fold
of Christ. Though you may not see as I do, I do not
pretend to say that I am higher than you in the Christian
scale : no, by no manner of means. There aremany behind
me and before; me this night who drink a glass of wine,
who are better, far better, men than I am or ever shall be,
and if ever, through God's blessing, I reach Heaven, I shall
probably see them there as bright particular stars near the
throne. I never have said it is a sin to drink a g?ass of
wine, and I hope that I never shall. All that I ask ot you
is, to allow me the lawfulness of my principle. You say
the Bible permits the sanction ot drink, and I agree with
you. I also s<'y that the Bible permits total abstinence.
But althoDgh it is lawful for you to drink, it is not lawful
for me. Allow me to add that I believe it is more lawful
for me to abstain than for you to drink, because, if you
bring me a sanction to drink, I bring you a caution ; if you
bring me an approval I find you a reproof. Now, I defy
you to bring to me a caution or reproof in the Bible against
total abstinence. Ours is a merely liuman instrumentality.
We do not expect to reform mi'n and make them regenerate
through total abstinence. The total abstinence principle
must save the drunkard, and I maintain that the sober man
is in a fitter state to receive religious instruction than when
stultified by the drink — (cheers). Ah! young men, what
power you have ! I remember reading in a fairy tale, that
a whole city was in one night changed into stone. Here
stan^ls a war-horso, with its nostrils distended, caparisoned
for the battle ; here stands the warrior with his stony hand
upon the cold mane. All is still, lifeless, deathlike, silent.
By-and-by, a trumpet sounds, ringing through the clear

atmoRphere ; tho warrior leaps upon his R<eod, tho horso
utters tlie war nt it,'b, and sturts forth to tho hatth- ; tho
warrior, with liis lanoi' in rest, and a slioiit, rides on to
victory. Now, youn^ nien, put the triinipet to your niotiths
to-ni<j^ht ; blow a bhtst that shall wak(i up thti dead stocka
and .stones, and on, on upward to victory ap;ninst all evil
habits and the evil influ.-nces surronndinj>: us. Gori iise«
human instrnmtntnlity ; Ictus bow down and thank Hitn
if he will use ns as instruments in his hands for further-
ing liis jjrcat cause, co-operatintj: with Him and his angels
in preventing sin ! I thank you from my heart, young men,
for your attention and your courtt'sy.

J. Cull
BOOK-

st. Cni

I I

I i!

fir

ill

n
i

h, ■

IMPORTANCE

OF TUB

TEMPERANCE ENTERPllISE

BY J. B. G U G II.

Bdivcrcd in Exdcr Iltll, Deccmhcr 27</j, 1853.

Ladies and Gkntlkmen, — ^.In cominp^ before the citizens
of liOtuioii nf,^jiiii to speak on the sul»ject of Temperance, it
gcems to me much like takinj; the same pieces of gUiss and
puttin-j; them in the sanu; kahidoseope, and slialcinp: them
lip occasionally to jircscnt dillcrent appearances with the
game materials. Spiakin.u: on Temperance is no easy
matter, for it is diffi "ult to t^^et up an argument without aa
op lonent. It may he called hy some a hackneyed theme,
an<l worn out. It certainly has been discussed over and
over ai^ain, and I sometimes think all has been said on the
subject that can be said. I believe all has been said that
need be said, if those who hear would act up to their con-
victions of the rif^ht. It is most gratifying that there is at
th(; present time a dis|)osition on the part of the people,
and on the part of certain classes of the people, to hear
what is to be said upon the matter. I have been surprised
at tin; lamentable ignorance which exists with regard to
the Tem|)erancc enterprise amongst a c'ass not by any
means ill-informed upon other swbjccts — men wlio, perhaps,
on those subjects, have forgotten more than I ever knew or
ehall know. A friend told me he was asked by a gentleman
if he never drank coftee ! — "What do you mean?" — "Do
you drink coffee?" — "What do you nuan?" — "Why, you
are a teet< taller, and I suppose you only drink tea." Such
Wits his positive opinion. Another manifestation of a want
of knowledge regarding the subject is the spiteful sneer af
our principles, and the ridi(ule and contempt which are
attempted to be cast upon our movements. I have been
often astonished to find gentlemen speaking so slightingly
and acting so unwisely in this matter. In one place which
I visited in Kent there was upon the platform a tiible, and
on it a decanter of water, surmounted by a tumbler. Before
I came into the room o!»e of the gentlemen on the platform
lifted the tumbler from the decanter, applied it offensively
to his nostrils, and put it down again amidst a shout of
laughter. Now, I say no one would have dared to have
been guilty of such an act — nu one would have been

Sustained in it by otluTR — in connection with any other
snhjoct tliun the (lespisod one of toetotalism When I hear
any man Kpeiik conteinptuously of tliis raovement, I know
at onc(! that he is ignorant concerning it. I defy any man
of common sense acquaint(!d witli the liistory of tlie reform
from tile time wlien a feeble harrier was first raised against
tlie tide of dealli, to despise it; to make himself acquainted*
with an instrumentality feeble in itself, but madi; mighty
by God's power to pulling down the strongholds of intem-
perance — to witness the revolution now going on in society,
and despise the means by which that revolution is produced.
The temperance enterprise rises befori; him in its glory,
grandrur and beauty, in j)roporti()n to his knowh-dgo,
claiming and receiving his involuntary respect, however
much hc! may hv led to o])pose it. \\ hat are wc; S"eking to
do ? We arc waging a warfare against the causes that
promote ard perpetuate drunkenness. This is what we are
aimjjig at. This is the head and front of our olTending—
if oflending it is — and God ludping us, we will fight to the
last against the instrumi-ntality tiio.t debases and degrades
the human soul. Look at a drunkard ! What is he ? Look
at hnii ! Gibbering in tin; idiocy of drunkenness, the dull
waters of disease standing stagnant in his eyes, sensuality
Beatetl upon his cracked, swollen lips. What is he? His
intellectual become devil, his animal become beast. What
is he? See him swept out with the pitiful leavings of a
dram-shop, the horrible stench of the last night's debauch
clinging to him. What is he ? Society has shaken him out
of her superabundant lap as a thing unworthy of love or
pity. Yet is he a man, not a thing ; a man — not an
animal ; a being, having a man's heart, a man's brain, a
man's sensibility, — that can stand up and say, " I am greater
than all God's material universe ; that is but the nursery
of my infant soul, sublime as it is. Which is greater, the
child or the nursery ? I am greater than God's material
universe. I can say to the sun, ' I am greater than thou
art, thou glorious orb, for I shall be when thou art not.
When thou hast perished, when ten thousand storihs have
passed over the mountain tops ; when the lightnings of
heaven shall no longer play on the highest pinnacles of the
earth; when the stars shall melt and disappear; when the
universe shall be moved as a cottage, and all material things
Bhall pass away in the finalcnishof doom — I shall still live;
for within me is the fire of God, a spark of immortality
that cannot be put out.' " Now look at him — poor mise-

J. Cul
BOOK-Ii

St. Cat!

ral)le, besotted, creeping wretch, in his deep, dark, damning
abasement, und will you not curse the influence that
makes him what he is? Will you not, in the name of a
common humanity, come up upon the migl-ty battle plain,
and war against the instrumentality that thus debases
a human brother? I see before me to-night — and I am
glad to see it, and I thank them for it — many young men.
Young men, just starting into life, between you and tlie
drunkard there seems to be an impassable gulf. How can
you leap from your present high position of respectability ?
Feeling the dignity of your manhooil — the liie of youth in
your heart, with glorious faculties looking uj) to something
higher, with powers of mind capable of grasping ever for
the InHnite, — come to such a position as that? God forbid
any who hear me should come to it ; but there may be
Borne that, fettered hand and foot, the iron eating into their
souls, the wri'ath they once placed on their brow become
to them a band of infamy, in the depths of despair may
remember tliis meeting; but if so, it will be in a halo f
light, but far fiom them, and separiUed by a contint-nt of
gloom, pain of body, and fever of spirit, far, far distant.
They will remember it ; for the drunkard does not foiget.
However thoughtless the drunkard may appear, he is not
really so. No man becomes a drunkard intentionally. Yuu
may rjake an exception to this rule. A gentleman once

said he could make an exception to any rule. His frii-nd
denied it. " Try me." " I will. ' God knows all things'—
make an exception to that," " I will — God does not know
his equal." " I will try another — ' God can do all things.' "
''No— God cannot sin." Therefore, I say, you can m;tke an
exception to any ude ; but take care that you don't take
the exception, and nuike it the rule. A gentlemarj told me
of one who, overcome by pecuniary difftcnl<irs, got <ie<per
and deeper into tro'^ble, until he resolutely and inten-
tionally became a drunkard. »< But," I asked, '• did he
not take drink before?" "Why, yes, nut he was qriite
a moderate drinker." Ah, that's it, — there was the
stimulus before to cheer him in little t-oubles ; and wJku
the dark hour came upon him, he flew to the same re-
source and perished. But I lay it down as a proposition
that no man intends to become a drunkard There is not
a young gentleman here to-night, who is looking below
his present position for his future one. W'hat do you live
for? To stand higher. IfyOu have one plum to-day. you
expect two to-morrow. If you area shopman, you want

, dcark, damning
influence tliat
tlje name of a
'ty battle plain,
Lt thus debuses
lit—and I aru
ny youni,^ men.
1 you and the
;ulf. irow* can
respectability 7
bo of youth in
p to something
sping ever for
t? God forbid
there may be
ting into their
■ brow become
3f despair may
in a halo f
a contin(.'nt of
ir, far distant.
)cs not forget,
ai", lie is not
'ionally. You
-'ntleman <mee
His friend
s all thiuiis' —
iocs not know
) all thing.s.' "
I can m.tke an
)U don't take
eraan told me
5, got de.pL-r
and inten-
t^^d, '-did he
le was qiiite
ere was the
< ; and when
be same re-
pi()po>ition
riiere IS not
>liing belosv
do you Ijv^e
to-day. you
u, you want

to become a master. If you have a good business, you
look f(M- a bv tier. All men are looking up, and il is right
that they should do so. Would that young men woidd look
hi.uii 1 than to mere positiou, than t(j grulity [>ride or mere
animal pKasurrs, and would look up iu the hig^irst and best
sensi' of that term. Otlur young men liave started as you
start, and one ut the false arguments used that have brought
them to their i)resent position, is this — all who do drink do
not b. come inteit peiate, I kuow that; but all who b(!come
drunkards do drink — from the liist glass down the sliding
scale to the ditch. I once luard a minister, lifting up his
Lands, say, — and though it njay sound severe, I rin)eat after
it, Auk n — " Would to heaven the lust drop of into.xicaling
liquor a miin shoidd rink, produced iu liim, at once, the
effect of whole \ ears ot drunkenness !" Then there would
Le no more of it. Mothers would not dare to give it to
thi ir chibiren, or the fathers present it to their sons, no
more than they would dare to put the child's hand in the
den ot a rattlesnake. But, it is said, aU do not become
druuKards. Is that a fair argument against us? Suppose
I was goitig to kill a mad dog, some one were to say—
" Don't "kiirthe dog." "But he's mad." " Well, he's not
Lit you." "But he may." " Well, never mind, don't kill
Lin), be is on.' of God's good creatures if he is a little crazy."
" Yes, but be will b'te somebody." "Probably he will, but
Le won't bite everybody, will he ? Let him run " Young
mi n take the cup in tlieir bauds, and in the midst of evi-
den.es ' f the danger, they see men of genius brought by
its influ nee to herd with the vilest wretches; but because
it hiis not had that elYect upon all, they say, " I shall run
the risk." What a r'sk ! Oh I what a risk. Young men
are too much in the habit of looking at drunkenness as a
little tbiug. We have sometimes laughed at the intoxica-
tion of a drunkard, and when we laugh at anything, our
cajiaei y f>r appreciating its serious lesson is lowered. If
yon laugh at a lunatic, you destroy in a great degree your
pow, r to appreciate the terrible nature of his malady. I
Lave laughed at the druidvar 1. I could not help it. I
rcmiinber seeing a man in a state of intoxication, attempt-
ing to wheel anotber in :i similar state tLrough a street in
Nr w York. Tlie tipsy gravity — you all know how ludicrous
a drunkard hioks when Le tries to appear sober, — with
V Lich th-' oj»e held the handles, nnd the other tried to keep
Lis balance, looking now one side and now on another,
was irresistibly ludicrous. At length tlie barrow turned on

■i i! !'l

one side, and out he rolkd. Turning round to his com-
panion, he said, " You are drunk " A Mow was struck,
and at it they went, hitting the air. If Russia and Turkey
never come nearer t'gether than tliose two drunkards did
in that hf«ttle, there will not h-," much trouhle in the cftmp.
They hit in every direction, until at last one of them put
up his liand, and tljat happeni d to Ijit the other, and they
fell one upon another. Dr. Johnston must have had such
a scene as that in his mind's eye when he dcscrihed
<' liiiigledy pi^gledy" to he a " conulomerjited mass of hete-
rogenous njatter" We see such sights, and laugh at them
Somi! men assuuK^ such ahsnrd attitudes when in drink
that wc (■annf)t hut laugh. I rememhcr seeing a caricature
of a number of portly, wealthy h)()king merc^hants, standing
with their jewelled tlngers spread upon their capacious
chests, discussing tli;- propriety of launching a vesi^el that
day. OiH' said lie would not incur the responsibility,
another said that he wonhi not incur tlie responsibility, and
none Ss-emed willing to risk the venture. I?y their side
stood a gentleman, drtssed in black, but very seedy ; he
■was (»ut at the ell)()ws, liis c< ai i)iitton«'(l closely round him,
making believe ha had a garment oii of which he was
eniirc^ly destitute ; nothing above a rusty stock, but a head
and a hat jauntily stuck on one side, well [)inched up
towards the erown, — he observes, with an air of im-
portance, '' You can let that vessel slide, / will take the
responsibility." 1 remember very well that a the time the
C<irulif e w'i'Wt owr the Niagara Falls, there was consider-
able excitinitnt on both sides, but the most was in the
grog-shops, where plans were discussed witii wonderful
unction, altbouuh none of them probably could take a step
to tarry them out, For when men are very dru .Ic they
are very patriotic, I once saw a man who iiad got fixed
in a barrel, and sitting there, half inside ai d liaU" out,
Bhotiting, " Hur ah for om- glorious '.igiits and privilgcs!"
Another fellow falling on a pump as he was tippling home,
Baid, "Yoting man, if you will just lay down that stick,
1 will fight you in about three minutes." I remember
reading that a man WHS riding over some very rough roads
in a wnggon, and being very much intoxitated he was
pitched out when one of the wheels got into a hole He
raised himself U|) and said, " TliHt was an awful pitch over!
If I had known what it was goiny to be, I would not have
riot out." At Lowell, Massachusetts, a man got drunk,
v?ame into his hous<», seized his own child, got a steel trap,

round to his corn-
Mow was struck,
Uis.sia and Turkey
vo drunkards did
b!c in tlie cfimp.
one of them put
-' other, and they
ist have had such
en he described
ted mass of he te-
nd hiu,i(h at them

vvlicn in drink
eint>- a caricature
rcliHnts, standing

their capacious
n^' a vessel fhat
Ai responsil.ility^
'.sponsihijity, and
By tlieir side
t very seedy ; he
>scly round liim,
I which he was
5tock, but a head
Well pinched up
1 an air of ini_
', / vvill tnke the
It a the time the
fv' was consider-
nost was in the
witi wonderful
could take a step
v<My dru .k tliey
lio had got fixed
u' ai d haU' out,
« and privilges!"
s tippling home,
own that stick,
I remember
•rv rough roads
xi fated he was
to a hole He
vvful pitch over!
would not have
nan got drunk,
?ot a steel trap,

put her little hands into it, and then laughed like a devil
as she shrieked in pain, while her fingers were torn and
lacerated by the teeth. A man was tried for seizing his
boy and dashing him through a window, leaving him to be
picked up, cut and bruised. Whether the intemperate
becomes a raving madman, and strikes you with horror, or
whether he obliges you to laugh at his foolishness, this
much is certain, — drunkenness is debasing, degrading,
embruting, scathing, blighting, damning, to all that is
bright and beautiful and noble. Let us look, then, at
drunkenness as it is. Look at the drunkard in his face.
The drunkard is a suffering man. Those young men just
outside the edge of the fearful whirlpool, can, if they put
the hand to the ear and listen, hear the shrieks and groans
Avhich rise from tho.'-c in the agonies of death, in the depths
of despair, with the folds of. the serpent coiled round their
bodies, tlieir minds pierced with the consciousness of
powers crippled, and opportunities destroyed. The drunk-
ard, I repeat, is a suffering man. His physical suffering is
no light matter, but it is the smallest portion of the suffer-
ing he endures. What is that physical suffering? There
is no human being that can understand it save those who
have experienced it. Did you ever see a man in delirium
tremens? Did you ever see him bite his tongue until his
mouth was filled with blood — the foam on his lips, the big
drops upon his brow ? Did you hear him burst out into
blasphemy which curdled youi blood ; and beat his face in
wild fury ? Is it the cramps and pains which wrench his
body, is it the physical suffering that seems to rack every
sinew in his frame ? No 1 it is delirium tremens I a trem-
bling madness! the most terrible disease that can fasten
its long clutches on a man. Delirium tremens is a species
of insanity. I don't know that I can give the physiology
of it ; but I know what I know, and that's enough for me.
It is a species of insanity ; but there is this ditference in it.
I was conversing with a man who had been an inmate of a
lunatic asylum for two years, and I asked him what he felt
during that time. He remembered nothing distinctly, and
was surprised to find he had been there so long a time.
When a man has had the delirium tremens^ ask him what he
has seen and felt, and he will tell you at once. Each hor-
ror is burnt into his brain, stamped upon his memory in ter-
rible distinctness, and the awful visions of the past come to
mock him in his sober moments. Let his nerves begin to be
disturbed, and he feels, as it were, the premonitory symp-

:i-'

toms of the horror. And there is another peculiarity. The
man is scared 1.^ images, by visions of creeping things ahout
him and around him. Now, if thesj things were realities
they would i\ut startle him so much. Suppose at night an
animrJ, frighttiil in expression and proportions, were to
come to your room with heavy tread. What would you do?
If it were a reality you would spring at it, you would
fight with it, and gather fresh courage from every blow.
Suppose that thing seems to come with soft footffill into
your room, and you know all the while that there is nothing
there ! You go up and grasp at it, and grasp, and grasp
again, and clutch nothing; and still there is a mocking
look on its frightful face. De Quincey has said that there
is nothing, for terror and consolation, which surpa'^'^es the
human face ; and suppose that frightful thing presents a
human countenance! You are transfixed with horror.
The skin lifts itself from the scalp to the ankles, and yet
you know there is nothing there to fight Men have been
found dead in the attitude of keeping off some awful image
like this. I once knew a man wlio wiis tormented witli a
human face that glared cit him from the wall. He wii)ed it
out, — it was there perfect sis before. He stood back sorj^.e
paces — and saw it again. Maddened to desperation, he
went to it and struck it again, and again, and again, until
the wall was spattered witii blotd, and the bones of his hand
were broken, — all this in beating out a phantom. That is
the horror of delirium tremens. I remember when it struck
me — God forgive me that I drank so much as to lead to it,
although not one half so much as somu who drank with me,
and who are moderate drinkers now. The first glass with
me was like fire in the blood ; the second was .as concent lic
rings in the brain ; the third made me dance and shout ; the
fourth made me drunk, and, God help me ! 1 drank enough
to bring upon me that fearful disease. I remember one
night, when in bed, trembling with fright. Something was
coming into the room — what it was I knew not. Sudd<'nly
the caudle seemed to go out. 1 knew the light was burning ;
I struggled to get to it, and would have held my hand there
fiercely till burnt to the bone. All at once I felt I was
sinking down ; fearful shapes seemed gathering round, and
yet I knew 1 was sitting in my bed, no oue near, and the
light burning ! Deliruum tremens is a terrible disease, but
—God pity us ! — men are dying from it every day. I saw-
one man die. and sliall never forget his look : he was l)ut
in his twenty-third year, and he died mad. A mother

'i .^'il

23*^

JiJ^arity. The
jg things about
[vL've realities
=;c at night an
lions, were to
|vould yon do?
t, you would
[1 every blow.
It footfall into
ere is nothing
hp, and grasp
is a mocking
aid that there
sur pasties the
ng presents a
with horror.
lUles, and yet
en have been
e awful image
nented with a
He wij)ed it
od back sorj^.e
espcration, he
d again, until
les of his hand
itom. That is
/hen it struck
s to lead to it,
rank with me,
irst glass with
1 as concentric
nd shout ; the
drank enough
emember one
omething wag
)t. Suddenly
was burning ;
tiy liand there
I felt I was
ig round, and
lear, and the
disease, but
day. I saw
; he was but
1. A mother

came to me in great grief. "What is the matter? ' My
boy, my eldest born, is dying trom delirium tremens He
is my only son, and 1 have no hope of him." Suddenly she
rose, and her eye Hashed lire as sh'.^ sai«l, " I could have
saved him, if it had not been for the man who keeps the
grog-shop below. My boy was sober for ligbteen months,
when he went to do a job at that shop, and they made him
drink; and now he's dying. Oh, if those who htard you
last night had felt as I did, I would havu headed them, and
we'd have torn that groggery all lo pieces." Fearful as
delirium tremens is, it is but part of the suffering of the
drunkard. Every inti mperate man is a despised mon.
You suppose he don't feel that. You are altogether wrong.
"Ahl" as Mrs. Stowe says in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," when
Ophelia shrank btick from little Topsy, " the girl felt it."
You shrink back from the drunkard, and he feels it. The
finger of scorn pointed at him, stings the seared heart as if
a burning brand were pressed upon the quivering flesh.
The person who asked me to sign the jiledge asked who I
was. •' What is the unhappy looking man?" "Oh," said
the other, "he is one of the most impudent fellows in
town." " I shall speak to him." " What about ? ' " Why,
about Temperance." " Well, all I have to say is, you will
get just as good as you give from him on that point. Ho
is a most impudent fellow." And so I was. My song was
wont to be, " I care for nobody and nobody cares for me ;"
and this, when I would have hugged the very dog that
licked my hand, would have taken the meanest creature
to my bosom, if it i>howed any signs of loving me. Why
was I. then, such an " impudent fellow?" Because I felt
every manVs hand was against me. I. was an Ishmaelite of
society} and I verily believe my hand was against every
man. This is human nature. Do you expect less of this
feeling in the drunkard than you have yourself? Suppose
you lost, by some nuans or other, your re><pectability : oh,
it is delightful, young men, to be respected It is pleasant
when meeting a genthmen, "Good morning, sir, pleasi!ut
morning;" to bow lo a lady in the stnt-t, — you bow, and
she returns your salutation. Why, 1 have known young
men walk two inches taller directly afterwards. Yes, it is
very pleasant to be respected. What isthe etlect of losing
thisrcypect? I maintain that no man — no unregenerate
man, no man whose heart is not renewed by the grace of
God, — can bear the scorn of his fellows, without repaying
it back, scorn for scorn. Retaliation is human nature.

J. tf

BOOE-j

St. d

■■ i

Suppose you have done something which, rightly or not,
has deprived you oi the respect of others. You go to the
market, to the exchange, and see a merchant, well known
to you, turn suddenly round as he sees you advance,
and begin talking earnestly to a third person, with his back
to your face. What is its effect? Why, if you are an
unconverted man, if you have not the Divine forgiveness
taught by the Gospel, you immediately say, " Oh 1 I m as
good as you are any day ; If you don't choose to speak to
me I shan't speak to you," Suppose a lady getting out of
a carriage has her dress entangled, and seems likely to fall ;
you hasten up to offer assistance ; she declines it haughtily,
and tells you to move out of the way — what do you do?
Why, the first thing you do is to turn round to see if any-
body saw that, your pride is mortified, and you pursue your
way considerably less happy than before, and, perhaps, if
you chance to see another lady in a similar predicament,
you leave her there, and pass sullenly on — the incivility
in the one makes you regardless of the other. I never was
considered very gallant. I have a profound respect for
women, and I believe the society of pure minded, intelli-
gent women, does more to purify the mind of a young man
than any other influence, except the gospel. But it hap-
pened that in the early part of my history, I was thrust
out from the society of women, and I feel the effects thereof
to this day. One Sunday I went to meeting, feeling that
day in remarkably good humor both with myself and with
all around me. When the hymn was given out, I found
the page, and looked over to a lady rather diffidently, but
mustering sufficient presence of mind passed it to her. She
looked at me from head to foot with a cold stare, got her
own book, and sat away a little, turning her back to me ;
the effect was most mortifying — it was cruel, that an act
60 well me'int should be so contemptuously rejected. One
result of the occurrence is, that I have never found a page
for any lady in a church since, and I never will. It is just
so all the way down, in different classes of society ; when
a gentleman is very unkindly treated in the course of the
day's transactions, he will go home very cross, an(i if a
man-servant asks him anything, \u is told to go away :
the man is both puz/led and annoyed; and takes an oppor-
tunity to tell any one underneath him to "get out of the
way." Tho son receives a portion -ot the parental wrath,
rubs his head and wonders what it is all about, and he,
perhaps, if he chance to meet just then with a favourito

htly or not,
u go to the
well known
ou advance,
ith his back
If you are an
forgiveness
' Oh I I m as
to speak to
letting out of
ikely to fall;
it haughtily,
do you do?
;o see if any-
pursue your
I, perliaps, if
predicament,
the incivility
I never was
d respect for
nded, iutelli-
a young man
But it hap-
r was thrust
'ffects thereof
feeling that
lelf and with
out, I found
ffidently, hut
to her. She
Jtare, got her
back to me ;
that an act
jected. One
ound a page
It is just
ciety ; when
ourse of the
•ss, anci if a
o go away :
s an ojipor-
t out of the
ntal wi-ath,
>ut, and he,
a favonvltg

dog, gives
This is the

the animal a kick, and tells it to " get out."
secret of the drunkard's recklessness. I will

not attempt to palliate the sin of drunkenness, and say
that the drunkard does not deserve all that he feels ; but,
nevertheless', I repeat that this is the secret of his reckless-
ness. I once associated in the bar rooms with young men
who were greatly my superiors in station : the sons of
respectable merchants, or professional men, and these,
though they would delight there to hear me sing and tell
my stories, would not speak to me when they saw me in
the street. They were genteel young men : I was not.
They walked with ladies, and played the part of accom-
plished beau : I did not. One day going through the
streets, I saw one of my companions coming from an oppo-
site direction with a lady hanging on his arm. I tried to
avoid a meeting, and looked for some means of getting out
of the way, but somehow could not manage it. The moment
he saw me, he made a turn and crossed the street. Seeing
this, I immediately went across, and, walking up, addressed
him in jovial tone. " How are you ? We had rare fun at
the widow's last night, but you got as drunk. as a fool. You
are coming to-night, remember, don't disappoint us." I
chuckled, because I felt I had power over him ; that
although despised, I could make his lip as white as his
cheek, and bring the hot blood on the cheek of the lady, at
her gallant being recognised by a tavern companion when
in her society. The drunkard is reckless ; but there is
another point of suffering. The drunkard has not only to
bear the scorn and contempt of others, he has to bear the
load of self-contempt, A man may bear the scorn of his
fellows ; let the concentrated scorn of the communitv be
pointed with hissing at you, — you can bear that better
than the load of self-contempt,— to feel you are a wretched
miserable thing, and from which your better nature would
shrink in disgust ; to feel as if you had a dead body bound
to your living frame, and that body become a mass of
putrefaction, and yet ever with you — when you walk
abroad, and when you lie down at home to sleep. Sleep !
The drunkard never sleeps. The
that calm sleep sueh as God gives

drunkard never knows
to his beloved. Stand

by hini on liis couch, and say if you can call that stentorious
breathing, sleep. Halloo in his ear, build a lire round him,

—he stirs not, but it is not
wretch, there is no sleep there

sleep.
1 He

God pity the poor
fiindi; Lis teeth, the

J. c^

book4>

St. ch

ll :i

3 ;;:i

"■it
'•I

l! ■■':!

oath, tlie curse, the- word of bliisiihcmy, escaping his lips;
the sw(.tit stuiuliriLC in hir^re drops on liis brow, — is that
sleep? (joti save you, young men, from suiTcriiig the only
sleep the (hnnkard knows. Wiicrever he is, his self-
contemj)t goes witli hiiu. But there is anothir kind of
misery whieh he endures. Wo look at tiie drunkard, and
have no idea he is a man of like feelings with oursc^lves ;
but the faet really '^, that those very faculties whieh drunk-
enness cannot kill are his eurs(\ Jlemory to us is
pleasant, Y(»u cm nmember some scene of trial, from
wliich you have, it may be, eorne out v/ith locks shorn but
with face shiniiig, and thi; remembrance of the contest is a
comfort, it gives you stn ngth as you go out on the battle-
field aeain ! The remembrance of a man unconnected with
sin is pleasant. What has the drnnkard to thin^' of? He
thinks of tlie past only as a point from which lie has strayed.
His memory is a curse. He is like an instrument all out
of tune ; with a love for purest harmony. There he stands,
and would fain be so secluded tiuit the winds of the morn-
ing should not blow a breath, lest they jar upon h's ear.
There he stands, an instrument all out of tune ; and by his
side stands a weird sister, and her luime is Memory, and
she strikes t'very chord with l>er fingers — jarring through
him with horii'ble discord, making Inm mad ; and he steeps
in diink his soul and senses, that he mav forg(!t the past.
He stuns his enemy, but she tears him again like a giant.
The 4th of July is as you know, kept as a great holiday
throughout the United States. The last speech I made in
Araericji was made on that day, and I told my audience
that the next would be delivered in England. Well I
remember the 4th of July, 1842. It was the most mise-
rable day I ever experienced. And, young men, let me say
here, it is humiliating to me to thus lay bare the secrets of
my own exp ricnce to you, but I have vowed to God that
all my faculties, all my energies, all the power He shall
give me, and the life He shall grant, shall l)e expended in
battling the hard-he;ided, black-hearted iniquity; and if I
can, by showing the scars where the iron entered into my
soul — by showing how I was hurrjing to the rapids, until
Infinite Mercv snatched me from the brink, — if I can save
any young man from a similar fate, save him as I was saved,
as if by fire, — I will bite the dust before you. I have some-
times found the exj crience of a man is sufiflcient to teach a
vital truth without the addition of a word. If you go to a

ing bis lips ;
ow, — is tliat
iiig tlic only
is, his self-
licr kind of
unkard, and
1 onrs(!lv('S ;
/hich drnnk-
y to us is
;' trial, from
:s 8horn but
contest is a
I the ])attle-
incftod with
n^' of? He
) basstrayod.
Kilt all out
re ho stands,
f the morri-
)0U h''s ear.
; and by liis
lemory, and
ing through
id he steeps
et the past,
like a giant,
eat lioliday

I made in
y audience
Well I
most mise-

let me say
e secrets of

God that
r He shall
xpended in

; and if I
d into my
pids, until

1 can save
was saved,
lave some- -
to teach a

ou go to a

physician who has just amputated a limb, and hear him
descrioo the operation, the rapidity of the movement, the
mode of its execution, you may feel astonished at the skill
displayed. You may turn away and think it was a very
pretty operation. Go to thcs man who lost the limb; bear
him describe bow he felt when the flesh was divided, when
the knife touched the bone, and you will think it was a hor-
rible thing. 6ome say it is egotistical. Now I would not
give that (snap[)ing his fingers) for a minister of rcdigion,
who was not in this respect egotistical, — who could not tell
what be knew of tbedeceitfulness of tbe human lu-art, of the
renewing influences of the grace of God. When I tell you
what I have known of this bitterness, I can stand up and
say that tbe curtain that hung over the drunkard's grave ia
lifted ; tbe bright star of ho[)e is beaming upon me, grow-
ing brighter and brigliter every day, until tc-uig1it I can
feel as it were bathed in a flood of light, and can thank God
for His inflnite mercy. I will therefore give tbe experience
of that day without hesitation. I had, at that tim^;, no
friends, — acquaintances I had, it is true, but no fiit-iids.
Ah, young men, it is a bard thing to find yourself thus
alone, to feel that you are a waif upon the stream, — not a
tear shed for your troubles, or a throb of pleasure frit in
your prosperity. I have ha I the feeling of solitude come
upon me — never in the wild forest, never in tbe woods,
where the singing of the birds and the whisperings of the
winds are heard — but among the haunts of iikmi. To walk
in the city, street after street, and see no familiar face — to
have no home — rambling over God's earth as if over a
burning desert — with no resting place for the sole of the
foot. I was alone, and I thought as I bad no friends and
no money, I would go to work. I did. I am a bookbinder
by trade, and I was soon hammering away iii)on the books.
Presently I heard some music. Now I am pa>sionately
fond of music, and I could not resist the temptation to go
out into the street and hear it. Just a'^ I was going out, a
gentleman said to me, — " It is a beautiful sight." " It is-—
what is it?" " The Temperance Societies at tbe back of the
grove on their way to take part in the ceremonies of the
day." " Oh !" said I, " I want nothing to do with them,"
and so saying, I went up stairs, an! began hammeiinj;
again. The music came nearer and nearer. I couldn't
stand it any longer. «' I don't care," I said, " whether t'lcy
be temoerance bands or not, but I must go and hear them."

J. Ci
BOOKn

i.) ■

I went into the street and leaned ftgainst a post. As the
teetotallers approached, 1 tried hard, as many do, to put a
sneer on my face, and to curl the lip, that passers hy should
think that one man was looking on with a great deal of
contempt on the proceedings — * a parcel of old women-
teetotallers? Pooh." It was certainly a beautiful sight.
The banners were fluttering away in the wind, the people
looked cheerful and healthy, tlie music was full of spirit.
"When the last in the procession had turned the corner, I
felt as if a beautiful picture had been hidden. I was much
affected, and the tears coursed down my cheeks. I came
there to sneer, but it had made me think of the time when
1 was a happy boy ; it made me think of the time when,
in the little village of Sandgate, William VVilberforcc gave
me a prayer-book ; when I kneeled by my mother's knee,
and when her soft, warm hand was laid on my head. In
contrast to that — and the contrast thrilled through every
nerve — I saw a poor, desolate, despised drunkard. Oh !
how bitterly I felt ! I went to work u itil night. Then I
went to the hotel I was accustomed to frequent. " Give me
some brandy," I said. I took it and drank it. " Give me
some more !" I took that and drank it. " Give me more."
" You have had enough." I don't care, 1 will have more."
The young men said afterwards I was mad. 1 scared them
by my talk. At three o'clock in the morning, I went out
of the town, and bathed my brow in the clear air. I went
to the graveyard and read of those whom I had known in
the days of the past ; I pulled up the grass in my frenzy ;
and cursed my own infatu ition. I had a bottle of lauda-
num in my pocket, and sat leaning for a little while on a
fence bordering on a railroad, and began to think how I
wished I could lie there and let the next train of cars cuJJ
me in two. I wished to die. Then I thought of men being
sometimes found cut in two by a train, with a bottle of
liquor by their side, and of its being called an accident
instead of the truth, — a suicide with such circumstances as
mine for the cause. I took the bottle and drew the cork,
but my hand shook, and that saved my life, for the very
edge of the glass struck against my teeth, I looked to the
city and heard the hum of business. " I was a man who
had seen good days, not a poor miserable thing yet. I am
as God made me. I am neglected by society." Bitter in
spirit, I entered the inn again. " Give me some brandy I
Hah ! hah ! who cares ?" — That, young men, is one day in

st. As the
do, to put a
•8 by should
reat dual of
d women—
utiful sight.
, the people
ill of spirit,
le corner, I
I was much
6. I came
'. time when
time when,
erforce gave
(ther's knee,
head. In
rough every
[ikard. Oh !
It. Then I
. " Give me
" Give me
'e me more."
have more."
geared them
I went out
[lir. I went
[I known in
1 my frenzy ;
le of lauda-
while on a
hink how I
I of cars cujl
f men being
a bottle of
an accident
imstances as
ew the cork,
'or the very
ooked to the
a man who
: yet. I am
' Bitter in
me brandy I
one day in

the life of a drunkard. God pity him ! There arc many
living like that at this moment in this city — many, many
in the low haunts of vice and wretchedness. One of your
City Missionaries showed me the other day a miserable
cellar in which he found a poor wretch who hud once
hung paintings in the Suffolk Gallery. " What brought you
to this?" said he, "The bottle, sir, the bottle!" was the
reply. Ah I the bottle is bringing men down every day
deeper, deeper than any of you have the least imagination.
Then, I say, if this be drunkenness, shall we not have some
common sense in arguing about it? "VVe know that all who
drink do not become drunkards, but I maintain that if in
this groat city of London there was but one man who fell
into drunkenness in a year, we ought not to take the cup
which may lead us there. Drunkenness is a fatal sliding
scale, from the first glass down, coming to false conclusions.
"I don't intend to injure myself" is one. Dr. Condict
told me the case of a young man who was a class-mate with
Daniel "Webster, whoso prospects at the time of his marriage
to a gifted and beautiful woman could hardly have been
exceeded in promise. He then drank in moderation, but
the desire for stimulants grew upon him, and he began to
drink to excess. Ilis friends saw this, but didn't like
to say anything to him about it, lest they should " hurt
his feelings." IIow foolish that feeling is. If we saw
a man walking on the edge of a precipice, should we
abstain from cautioning him, lest he should think that we
intimated he did not know how to take care of himself ?
The young man grew worse and worse, and his wife became
exceedingly affected in her health, and even in her mind,
but he saw nothing. At length Mr. Webster camo to the
city, and the friends told him of it. " He is ruining him-
#fllf," itrey saill, " and his practice — rtho law ; the other day>j
when an important case came to bo heard, he was not fit
to take a part." " But," said Webster, has nothing been
done ? has no one spoken to bim about it ?" They told
him no; they wished to spare his feelings. "Feelings,
sir ! I must go and see him." He went into the office ;
and when the young man rose to greet him, he gave him a

look, such as Webster only could give, and said, "Mr, •

I tell you plainly, I see j'ou are becoming a drunkard — stop
— now sit down quietly, and let me tell you the whole
truth." Then he told him of his declining practice, of the
failing state of his wife's health; and the result was,, that

J. Ci
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St. Ci

-( ! ■!

ir
II

li'i

the younji; man said, " Webster, you have opened my eyes ;
I will drink no more." lie did not drink any more intoxi-
catinjuj drinks J'or months. He took his wife to watering-
phice after waterinjj^-place, and surrounded her with every
luxury his increasing practice enabled him to all'ord ; but
she did not seem to improve. One evening as slu! was
sitting with some ladies in Mrs. Condict's parlour, thejr
noticed her manner to be strange. Presently the door
opened, and her husband entered with an eager smile upon
his face as if about to announce sonit; new [)rovisi(jn for
her comfort. i he wife rose to mett him, with the silly
iaugh of an idiot! " Oh, my Ood !" he exclaimed, " I could
bear to see my wife a maniac; but an idiof, an idiot l-^
never," and lie went away and drank himself to death.
Mrs. Condict toUl me that she went afterwards to the house
and found the wifi; playing with the children, and lighting
with them for their toys — a pirfect idiot 1 You say, young
men, you have no intention of doing yourself an injury.
Let me tell you that the intluences of drink upon you are
injuring you every day. A man is a long time being injured,
before he knows it. Intoxicating licpior is dece[)tive in its
nature, I may illustrate it by a figure. A serptmt lay in a
circle of fire. A man passed by, and the re|)tile entreated
his aid. " But you will bite me," " No, I will not." <' lUit
I fear you will." "I promise you 1 will not," — and the
mau takes tlie fire away. '■ Now," says the serpent, '• I must
sting you." "But," urged the mau, "you promised you
would not." "Promised! what are promises, when it
is in my nature to sting you?" " Look not thou U|)on the
wine wlien it moveth itself in the cup, for at la^t it idteth
like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder." God forbid,
young men, that you should have to look back, as I do,
upon a dark gap in your life's liistory, — upon privileges
ftbused, opportunities destroyed, energies paralysed. In-
toxicating liquor is deceptive in its nature, and it does
seem to me, sometimes, as if Satan himself had no power
on earth that was doing his work so effectually as this.
We might almost fancy him seated upon his high and
burning throne in Pan(iemonium, crowned with a circlet
of everlasting fire, calling around him his satellites, to
show their respective claim for certain privileges, by the
power one possessed more than another to bring man to
that burning lake. We may imagine Mammon, the
meanest of all the Gods, standing up and .lying. " Send me.

I my eyes;
loro intoxi-
) wutering-
witli every
Hllurd ; but
as hIu! whs
rlour, tlioy
y tin; door
Kiiiilc upon
rovisioii for
h till! silly
(I, " 1 could
an idiot /—
f to death.
) tliu liouse
ud li-^hting
. say, young
[ an injury,
on yi>u are
in^^ injured,
'ptive in its
►ent iiiy in a
Ic entreated
not." " lUit
:," — and tlio
nt, " I must
oniised you
R, when it
on upon the
a^-t it i'iteth
God forbid,
k, as I do,

privileges
lysed. In-
md it does
I no power
illy as this,
s high and
bli a circlet
itellites, to
I'ges, by the
ing man to
immon, the

<' Send me.

I cnn send men from their hom'^s across the burning desert,
or tilt; trackless ocean, to li<.'lit and dig in the envtli for
yello > <lnst ; iind so harden tin; heart that the cr) nf 'he
widow and the futh-rbss sluill be unlu'anl. 1 will so stop »ip
every avenue to human alVei'tioii, tli;.t my vi( tim shall
stiind as if made of tlu; metal he loves, and when the cold
fmL^<is of I), ath iire feeling for his hi art-strings, he shall
clutcii closer and closer to his heart the bag of yellow dust,
whii h is ihe only (Jod he ever worshipped." l>elial, liMhiest
of all (lie gods, next proclaims bis power. 'J'hiu the
DvStioyer ass. rts his claim; he h<»lds Avar, [Ki-tiliiiee, and
famini' in his hand, and makes men whosi- tiadi- it shall bo
to deface (Jod's image, rank themselves in hostile array,
and liurry each other, shrieking, unshronded into another
world. While all is silent, wc njay suppi se a mighty
rumbling sound, at which all lull (juakes ; an<l far in tho
distance is seen, borne upon the liery tidi', a m'»nstroua
being, his hair snakes, all malted with Idood, bis faco
hesm ared witii gort', Ijo rises half his length, and tho
waves (iasliing against his breast fall back in a shower of
fire. "Who art thou?" I am an earlh-born si)irit. I
heard your proclamation, and come. Send me. I will
turn Ihe band of tin; father against the molhir, the mt)ther
against the child, the husband against the wife ; the younj»
man, in the pride of manliness, I will wrap in my cerenu-nt
and witlntr him. J'hat fair young girl I will make such a
thing that tlu; vilest wretch .shall shrink f:om her in
disgii. t -Ijjwill do more. I will su deceive them that tho
mother shall know that I destroyed her lirst-born, and yet
give me to her second. The father shall know that I
destroyed the i)ride of his hope, and yet lift the deadly
draught to the lips of the second. Governors shall know
how I have sappid the root of States, and yet spread over
me tiu! robe of their protection. Legislators shall know
the crime and misery I cause, but shall still shie'ld and
enecmrage nn;. In heathen lands I shall be called firc-
i.'ate:, spirit of the devil; but in Christendom, men shall
call me 'a good creature of God.' " All hell resounds with
a shout, and Satan exclaims — " Come up hither, and tako
a seat on the throne till w-e hear your name." As he
mounts t ) the seat, the spirit says aloud, " My name ia
Alcohol!" and the name shall be shouted in every part of
hell, and the cry be raised, "Go forth, and the benison of
the pit go with you." It does seem to me that no power

J. c
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St. Ci

y '

;[■!*■ 4\

on earth is so deceptive. No man, as I have already said,
ever intended to become intemperate. Thousands are
dying to-day ; the poor shrieking spirits fly wildly into
eternity, 'every one of which began the first drain with no
intention to become a drunkard. Young men, we are
striving — God lielping us — not only to build a barrier
between the unpolluted lip and the intoxicating cup, but
to go down like divers into the depths, for bright and
beautiful pearls, hidden under the black rocks of oblivion.
Many are brought up full of the fire of intellect ; others
shining witli the hues of the Christian graces. And though
we don't affirm that our principle is to entirely refonu and
regenerate a man, we are waging, by this instrumentality,
warfare against this one sin ; because it is a physical evil
to be removed by physical means. And we shall succeed,
though neither you nor I may see the day. I sonn times
think that the grass is now in the sod which is to wave
over my grave, — but what of that ? Shall I not sow,
and plant, and water, and pray, though there be not
a blade of grass in the sand to cheer my sight ? If
the enterprise be a rigliteous one, it is in His hands.
We shall work, toil, labour, and pray. Yes, pray. I
pray tfiat wlien Death comes to me, he may come while
the harness is on, — wnile I am battling for the right
against a hard, black-hearted iniquity. We fight sm-e and
certain of success. Some will say — " Do you really believe
that intemperance will ever disappear, and vex the nation
no more ?" If I did not, I would not dare to say — " Our
Father, who art in hea'-en ; hallowed be Thy name ; Thy
kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in
Heaven," — because 1 know when His will shall bo done on
earth, there will not be a dram-shop, there will not be a
drunkard on the face of the whole earth. Oh, young men I
is there nothing attractive in this enterprise ? You say,
" If I wanted to serve you, there is not much I can do."
Do what you can. It was said of old, in approval of one,
" She hath done what she could," You remember reading
that Andrew followed our Saviour ; but you don't read that
he made very great speeches, or preached many eloquent
sermons, or that he gathered the people about him in a
multitude ; but you read that he went and called Peter,
and Peter stood up, and three thousand wore converted in
one day. You have influence to exert to save some poor
Peter, to bring him up from the depths, and be instru-

ady said,
lands are
Idly into
n with no
1, we are
a barrier

cup, but
if^ht and

oblivion.

I ; others
1(1 though
fonu and
iientality,
sical evil
1 succeed,
iomi times
to wave

not sow,

be not

[••lit ? If

lis hands.

pray. I

me while

the right

sure and
ly believe
he nation
ay — " Our
ime ; Thy
IS it is in
3 done on

not be a
ung men I

You say,
[ can do."
^al of one,
ir reading
t read that
' eloquent

him in a
lied Peter,
averted in
some poor
be instru-

mental in setting up some great reformer, when the blessing
of the people will rest upon you. Pray never to have to
say as I do — :

"I was tossed by the winds on a treacherous wave,

Above me was peril, beneath me a grave.

The sky to my earnest inquiry was dark.

The storm in a deluge came down on my bark ;

How fearful to drive on a horrible shore,

Where breakers of ruin eternally roar I

Oh ! mercy, to wreck in the niorning of days.

To die when life daj5zles with changeable rays,

And sink with the grovelling and vile of the ship,

With the rose on my cheek, and the dew on my lip ;

And fling, as a bauble, my soul to the heaps,

That glitter and mock from the caves of the deeps."

If ever you should have to say that, I pray God that you
may also say, as I can : —

" Oh, no, for a star trembles out on the sky.

The shrieks of the ocean comr/lainingly die ;

The gales, that I covet, blow fresh from the shore,

Where breakers of ruin eternally roar ;

Every sail presses homeward, all thanks unto Thee,

Whose voice in that hour hushed both tempest and sea,"

J. c
BOOK'

St. Ci

JOHN. B. GOUGE'S

ADDRESS TO CHILDREN.

Delivered in St. Martin''.^ JLt/f, Long Acre, Decemhcr 2Sth, 1853.

Thi3 Meeting is called expressly for tlif purpose of intor-
cstiim cliiidreii in the subject of Tempenniccs and, if I am
rightly informed, the children nearly all of them belong to tho
Societv of the " I3ands of Hope." But on looking round ^he
room, I see not only children, but adults, and ihis mnkes it
doubly diilicnlt for me to speak elfectividy. I hardly indeed,
know how to order my address, unless 1 speak liist to tho
children, and th«!n to the adults. I have been in the habit—
and I speak now to the cliihircm — of ^peaking very frequmtly
to young people in the Unitetl States, where we have formed
large societies called " Cold Water Armies." In Boston, we
have 9000 children who have signed the pledge, and who thus
belong to the cold water army ; and it is one of the most
pleasant parts of my business to speak to them, on the oeca-
8ion of their gatherings. It is encouraging to me to speak
to children, because I believe that the b;.ys and uirls mostly
enjoy and understand whatissaid. — (C .»• ) A Tempinance
Rp akertold me, that thi? greatest reliii .!<• ever received in
his lift', was once ovcrh* aring two bovs (lis. ass an addr< sstliey
had heard. " Well Bill, how did you like it ?" " (»h, not at
all." " Why no' ?" Why, because he talked so much baby
talk."— (Laughter.) Boys don't wnnt htt/n/ talk. I want tho
boys and girls to pay a little attention to me this evetiing.
I rejoice to have the opportunity of speaking to ihcm,
for one reason in i)artieular, and that is, be< ause children
generally are conscientious, and this is one of tiie most j)b'as-
Ing features of childhood. Let me rv late a story — aiul 1 shall
deal chiafly this evening in stories. A gentleman in the
city of Boston who was in the liabit of usintr wine, was asked
by one of his i)roinisin.L'^ 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 co'd water army, we don't allow
the children to sign the pledge vvith(;ut the consent ot i heir
parents. We believe the boy's first duty is to obey liis lather

REN.

2Sth, 1S53.

!0 of intor-

tul, if I am

'loriLTto tlio

jf round +he

is makes it

\]y indeed,

irst to the

the lifil.it —

frequently

ave formed

Boston, wo

id who thus

f th(^ most

)n the oeoa-

ni to speak

iris mostly

empinance

received in

Idri ssthey

Oh, not at

[nneh baby

I want tho

s evening,

to ihem,

e eliildren

nost |)leas-

aiul 1 shall

lan in the

was asked

one of our

must not

lon't allow

nt of their

his lather

and mother. Well, the boy came : he was a noble little fellow ;
full of lire, and life and ingenuousness. We san^ and 8ung,
and the chorus was shouted by the children : —

"Cheer up mj' lively lads,

Tu ppite of rum imd eider;
Cheer up my lively bids.

We've .«igued the pledfje together,'

We sung it eight or ten times, and the little fellow I
Rpeak of sung it'too. As he was walking home, however,
the thought struck him that he had been singing what was
not true — "We hnve signed the i>le(lg.; together ;'' he had
not si-ned the pledge. When he reached h(;m(; lie sat down
at th(.^ table ; and on it was a jug of cider. 'Jem,' says one
of his brothers, 'will you have .some ci('er?' • No, thank
you,' was the rei)ly. Why not — don't you like it?' 'Ok
I'm never going to drink any more cider, — nothing more that
is intoxicating" for me!' 'My hoy,' said his father, 'you
have not disobeyed me; you have not signed the pledge?'
« "No, father,' said he, sobbing, ' I have not signed the pledge,
but I've sung it and that's enough for me.' — Loud' cheers
from the childnm.) That father came up to the Temperance
meeting:, at which 3000 people were assembled, and told the
story, and said, 'I'll not \)c outdone by my hoy, — though I
have not sung the ph'dge I will .sign it.' He did so, and is at
the present diw oni' of the truest and noblest supporters of
the cause;. Now I like to set; conscientiousness, and(;hiklren
are conscientious before they become warped and stultilied by
contact with the world ; and if we can bring them to the
right point at starting, we may feel assured tluy will go on,
"by God's grace, to a glorious consummation. Some persons
say, 'What is the use of letting a child of six or seven
years old sign the pledge? They don't under; iind it.' Now
children understand a great deal more than we give them
credit for. They do understand what is nieaut by the pledge,
and by temperance, and they understand also, and often use
th(! arguments. I Avas once engaged in forming a cold water
army at Bangor, United StatciS, and a hoy said to me, " If I
sign the pledge, may I drink cider, and the beer my mother
makes ?" Now, I knew that what he called the beer mado
"by his mother was a drink which was not intoxicating ; so
I said ht! might drink that, but eider — no. " Oh, well, 1 like
cider!" said he, and away ho W(^nt. Other hoys joined him,
and they talked earnestly together. Presently he < ame back
and said, "Put my name down; I'll sign." — (Cheers).

A gentleman in Virginia had a boy six or seven years old,

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"who wanted to sign the pledge ; all in the family had done
80, but the father thought him too young, and would not
let him. At last, however, after much entreaty, permis-
sion was given. Soon after the father went on a journey.
At one stopping place, away from a town, ho called for
some water. It did not come, so he called again ; sti 11 he
could not get it; but cider was brought, and, being very
thirsty, he so ftir forgot himself as to drink that. When ho
returned home he related the circum.stance. After he had
finished, the little boy cami; up to his knee, with his eyes full
of tears, and said " Father, how far was you from James
Kiver, when you drank th cider?" "Rather more than
fifteen miles, my boy." " Well," said the little fellow, sobbing
" I'd have walked there and back again rather than bavo
broken my pledge." — (Cheers). -^^Oh, God bless the children!
We have thousands such as these ; children who understand
the principle and keep to the practice. I sometimes wish the
adults kept the pledge as v*'ell as the boys do. I said just
now, that the children understand the arguments. A lady
v;ho kept a school told me, that when she Avas teaching spel-
ling in class, they came one day to the word "jug." "What,"
she asked, " do people put in a jug ?' " Rum," said a boy.
" I hope," said the lady, " 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 got round that boy
and argued with him with such force, that at last, like many
older than he have done, he got his back against a wall and
said, " I don't care if it is so— I don't care if you are right."
They do understand the argument.

A barrel of liquor was once being carried up a street
when, '^y accident, it fell to the ground and the head was
driven in. One of the spectators, seeing the liquor was
spilt, said, " Oh dear 1 oh dear ! what a pity 1" " Oh no !" said
a little boy, who was looking on, — '• it is not a pity." The
drink will do better on God's earth than in God's image."—
(Cheers). He had heard this said at a Temperance Meet-
ing, and the apt manner in which he made use of it showed
that it was thoroughly understood. Children may be made
the most glorious coadjutors in the ranks of temperance.
The children in the United States have been engaged in
exerting an influence outside of their armies ; they know well
what is meant by sympathy and benevolence. We have
taught them that a drunkard is a man. Although he is poor,
and miserable, and debased, and although he sometimea
frightens them, yet that he is a man and was once a boy aa
pure and bright as they ; and, therefore we teach the chil-

y had done

J would not

aty, permis-

n a journey.

called for

; still he

, being very

When ho

'ter lie had

his ejes full

from James

more than

ow, sobbing

ir than have

he children!

> understand

:ies wish the

I said just

its. A lady

aching spel-

." "What,"

said a boy.

anything of

it, and I like

Lind that boy

3 1, like many

b a wall and

I are right."

up a street

ihe head was

liquor was

Oh no !" said

pity." The
I's image."—
jrance Meet-

of it showed
nay be made

temperance.
1 engaged ia
i3y know well
!. Wo have
^h he is poor,
e sometimea
nee a boy as
ach the chil-

dren that they should have sympathy with a drunkard who
has a man's heart and sensibility. I have gone to 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,
liftid up his hands and said, " I didn't know I had a friend in
the world." No power on earth is so debasing to a man as the
power of drink, but we have taught the children to look upon
the intemperate as a human being. We used, in the United
States, to furnish boys and girls with pledge-books and
with pencils, and tlius e(iuipped, they would get numerous
eignutures. A man was leaning, much intoxicated, against a
tree. Some little girls coming from school, saw him thero,
and at once said to each otlur, — "What shall we do for
him?" Presently one said, " Oh, I'll tell you — lefs sing him
a temperance song." And so they did. They collected
round him, and struck up —

Away, away the bowl,"

and so on, in beautiful tone. The poor drunkard liked it,
and so would you, " Sing again my little girls,'' said he. —
" W(! will," said they, " if you will sign the pledge." " No,
no," said he, " we are not at a temperance meeting, besides
you've no pledges with you." " Yes we have, and pencils
too," and they held them up to him. •' No, no, I won't sign
now, but do sing for me." So they sung again : —

" The drink that's in the drunkard's bowl is not the drhik for me."

" Oh do sing again," he said. But they were firm tliis time
and declared they would go away if he would'nt sign. " But,"
Baid the poor fellow, striving to find an excuse, " You've no
table, — how can I write without a table ? You must put
the pledge somewhere." At this, one quiet, modest, pretty
little creature came up timidly with one finger on her lips,
and said, " You can write upon your hat ; while we hold it
for you.'' — (Cheers.) Well, the man signed, and I heard
him narrate these facts before 1500 children. He said,
" Thank God for those children — they came to me as mes-
sengers of mercy

We also teach the children of our cold water armies, that
the children of the drunkard are not deserving of the scorn
and contempt which they sometimes meet. I once rode with
a man for about twelve miles whose story was most affecting.
He had then two splendid horses with silver-mounted har-
ness, and a handsome vehicle. " Ah !" said he, " if you had

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; I

only seen mo oiglit ycnrs ago, yon would have thoui^ht me
in M sorry plijrlit. All that I liad in the world was on my
miserable cart, which was ^drawn by a h an and shal)by
animal. Now, I've a good team, and a nice little property.
My good old father and mother liv(^ in the town where
wo a!'e goiijg and we must make liasto and join them. —
See how my horses go," and away we went right meirily.
That man was nuturaliy a most kind-luaried, and at tho
time T spcalc of, was a. religions man — a monbcr of a C'.ris-
tian cli'ii'cli, but when Ik; was intemperate, it was far oth<'r-
wise Tears rau down his cheeks as he told me how he once
treated his boy. " I came home," ln' said, "irritated with
drink, and ready to vent my ;inger upon anything. 'Miy l)oy
came in, but the moment lu* saw nn; he darted away. I
calh'd him back, and then saw that his face w-as bloody ; his
lip was cnt and his eye swollen. ' vVhat have you l)een do-
ing ?' ' I've been figliting, f ither.' ' What tor ?' « Dt)n't ask
me, father, I don't want to tell you.' What (in an angry
tone) have you been figliting about? — tell me this insiant,'
' Oh, don't ask nn", father, I can't tell you !' I took the boy
by the collar and struck him with my shut fist on the side
of the head. ' Boy,' I said fiercely, 'now tell me, or I'll ( ut
tho life out of you.' ' I don't want to, fatlier.' I struck him
nnotiitr blow, and then he rubbed his hand across his eyes,
bringing away tears and blood, and said, ' Don't strike me
any more, father, and I'll tell you.' ' Well, what is it ?' 'A
boy down there told me my fathi-rwasan old <lninkaid, and
I fought him f-r it, and if h^ tells me so aicain, I'll whij) him
again, if yt)n kill me for it,' " — i L ud cheers). AVf till « ur
children that these children of a drunkai'd an- not to Idamo
for a father's or mother's intemperance. It is the height of
cruelty to say to them sueeringly, " Ah, your father is a
druidcard," or to sh.rink from companionshi[) when tiny are
thrown in your way.

Wc have di-tiiet schools in America, wher* ovei\ body's
chikht n go, and it sonKlimes luijpens that the chii(b- n or
a drunkard go there, as the e«1iieiition commntncatcd costs
nothing to the parents. A school teacher told ir.c < f •• very
pleasing change? whieli took place in one school in t1 e onduct
towards the cihildren of a drimkard. Tiie latter W(;re t\v(» poor
little creatures wliom it was almost impoi-sible not to pity It
is usual for children who come from a distance to biing th'ir
dinnfrs,an<i between the school hours tosit{h)wn in tii • s^ hool
room or under the trees to eat. W(dl, these poor littb- things
often had nothing to eat, and very oftt n when they stood
pale and sorrowful by the side of the others, the latttu- would

tlimitrht me
was oil my
.iTul sli<al)by
tie propt'rty.
town wliere
|()iii tlii'iii —
i^ht meirily.
1, and at tho
r of a C vis-
as far dthcr-
how lie once
•ritatc(l with
nir. ^Fy boy
trd away. I
1 bloody ; liis
V'oii Ix'cn do-
' Don't ask
in an ati^ry
;his instant,'
toolv the boy
on the si do
(', or I'll ( ut
I striick him
OSS his eyes,
I't strike me
it is it?' 'A
uiikard, and
I'll whip liirn
AVr tell . nr
lot to blame
be beifrlit of

• father is a
hen they are

ovev\ liody's
' ehibb'n oi
neated co^ts
ir.e < f ■•• very
1 tl e ondiict
I'evi' two poor
)t to pity [t
!■() bi inn Hi< Ir
ill th s' bool

• liitb- IhioLjs
J they siMod

latter would

say, * Yon go away, — your father is a drunkard.' But they
were soon otherwise taught, and then it was gratifying to see
how delicate they were in their attention to the littb^ unfor-
tunates. They would steal up to the place where the two
little ones were accustomed to dine, and one would put down
apii.-eof pie, another an ap[)le, and then they ran away
quite ort of siglit. — (Loud cheers). On one occasion, T was
walking at the end of a i)rocession — a most beautiful sight—
the music playing, the banners waving, the girls with medals,
and the boys shouting, 'Hurrah for coll water,' wlniu I
heard a sound ot crying, which seemed to proceed from a
field we passed. I looked over a gate, and there I sa\t a little
scantily-dressed boy on his knees, rubbing his eyes and crying
most pitcously. I said, ' What is the matter ray boy ?' ' My
father won't let me go with thc^ procession.' ' Do you want
to go, then ?' ' Yes, but my father won't let mo ; — may 1 go ?'
' No you must not, if your father says you must not.' I left
him there and walked up to the place v.iiore the procession
had assembled

In addressing the children, I told them what I had wit-
nessed and observed — how happy and grateful they ought to
be that they were allowed to take {)art in so joyful a scene.
I continued in this strain for a little time, v/hen a man pu^'hed
his way through the crowd up to the platform, and said,
' Have you a pledge ?' ' Yes.' ' Put my name down on it.'
Then facing the children, he said ' That boy is my boy, arid I
told him this morning that he sliould not come up here, but
I am willing that he should come now if you will have him?'
* Have him ?' shouted every boy, " we'll have him :' and away
8ome scores of them started down the hill — I never saw hoys
run so before in my life — and presently they were seen
escorting him in triumph to the place where we were. There
they shook hands with him, a little girl put a medal round
his neck, and all shouted an enthusiastic ' Hurrah !' —
(Cheers ) Th<'reforo it is encouraging to speak to the chil-
dren, because th(\y understand and are conscientious.

I have one little fact to relates to you on the subject of chil-
dren's usefulness. Children cau be us fnl by consistency —
conscientious consistency. I was going into Canada one time,
and while on the St. Lawrence, a gentleman who was one of
a very pleasant number of passengers, came up to me, and
snid, 'Mr. Gough, I believe.' ' Yes sir, my name is (lough. '

'You probably do not know me, I am Captain t.f the

rifle brigade. Do you rememlier when you were hicturiug at
Niagara, a jentleman in unitorm passed the pledge ?' 1 said
that I did, distinctly. * Well, I am the man. When you

•4

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St. (1 •: ,,

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: m

; A\>

appealed to the people to adopt the principle of total absti-
nence, I happened to be present in uniform, and, to encourage
others, I undertook the task I have mentioned. My boy
signed that pledge, and on coming home, he said, ' Pa, I
have signed the pledge ; will you help me keep it?' ' Cer-
tainly,' I said Well I hare brought home a copy of th«
pledge, will you sign it?' 'Nonsense, nonsense my child;—
what could I do when my brother officers called, if I was a
teetotaller ?' ' But do try joapa.' * Tut, tut ; why you are quite
a little radical.' < Well, you won't ask me to pass the bottle V

* You are quite a fanatic, my child ; but I promise not to ask
you to touch it.' Six weeks after that, two officers came in
to spend the evening. ' What have you to drink,' said they ;

* have you any more of that prime Scotch Ale ?' ' No,' I said,
*I had not, but would get some.' 'Here, Willy, run to the shop
and tell them to send some bottles up.' The boy stood there
respectfully, but did not go. ' Come, Willy, why what's the
matter ? Come, run along.' He went, but came back pres-
ently without any ale in his band. ' Where's the ale, Willy ?'
' I asked them for it, pa, at the shop, and they put it upon the
counter, but I could not touch it. Oh pa, pa, don't be angry,
I told them to send it up, but I could not touch it myself 1' I
could not but feci deeply moved. I stood up and said, ' Gen-
tlemen, you hear that ? you can do as you please ; when the
ale comes, you may drink it ; but not another drop after that
shall be drank in my house, and not another drop shall pass
my tongue. — (Cheers.) Willy, have you your temperance
pledge ?' ' Oh, pa ! I have.' ' Bring it then ;' and the boy was
back with it in a moment : ' I signed it, and the little fellow
clung around my neck in almost a frenzy of delight."' That
officer is now one of the noblest and most self-denying advo-
cates the Tempcranoe cause possesses,-doing more good than
any half-dozen men in his vicinity. It cost him something
to become a teetotaller. He met at first with mtich ndicule^
but as he said to me : — ' I have the best of it. Sometimes
after a mess-dinner, they will be rubbing the head, and I gay,
tapping my forehead ' Ah, perfectly clear, perfectly clear ;' and
they reply,' Well, Captain, you certainly have the best of it.' "

What is— and I speak how to the adults,— what is it we seek
to do in framing these Bands of PIopo ? We seek to build a
barrier between the unpolluted lip and the intoxicating
cup. We believe that object to be a good one. I ask any
father or mother in this assembly, "could you bear the thought
for a moment, that your child should become a drunkard ?"
Wo are too much in the habit of looking at drunkenness as
something so far off. Make it a personal matter. Suppose a

' Pa, I

'Cer-

fcotal absti-

encourage

My boy

aid,

it?'

opy of tho

ly child ; —

if I was a

>u are quite

he bottle ?'

not to ask

irs came in

' Baid they ;

No,' I said,

to the shop

stood there

what's the

back pres-

ile, Willy ?'

it upon the

't be angry,

myself 1' I

said, ' Gen-

; when the

p after that

p shall pass

temperance

the boy was

ittle fellow

rht.'" That

nyingadvo-

e good than

L something

:h ndicule^

Sometimes

l,and I gay,

r clear ;' and

best of it.' "

s it we seek

: to build a

ntoxicating

I ask any

the thought

drunkard ?"

ikenness as

Suppose a

fire were to take place in your house to-nght, and in that
fire a child was burnt ; it would be horrible. " I could have
borne it," the mother would say in her agony, " if I had but
heard its last whisper, if I had closed its eyes, if I had seen it
die." Suppose the remains are found,; a charred piece of flesh
and a few bones. And suppose these are followed to the grave.
What a painful funeral I Yes it would be painful indeed. But
I know, by my faith in human nature, that there is not a
mother hero to-night, who would not rather that the pure
spirit of her child should so take its flight to the bosom of
Him who said, " Buffer little children to come unto me, for of
such is the kingdoin of heaven,"' than see him grow up a
besotted thing and die a drunkard. There is not a mother
before me but would rather follow her child to the grave than
gee it die years hence in a state that would leave her no hope
in his death. Did you ever see a child with the face of an
angel and the form of a demon ? I read in the Sunday School
Advocate of a little crooked child, but a bright little creature,
saying on her death-bed, " Mother, I am going to die, but I
am so glad. I have been a trouble to you mother, but now I
am going to heaven ; and oh mother ! I am very crooked now
but oh mother, mother ! when I get to Heaven among the
ang'els shall I not be straight ?'' Would you not rather your
child should die a cripple like this, than stand up an Apollo in
form, and di(i shrieking mad, responsible for every act as if
committed when perfectly sober; for drunkenness is a volun-
tary extinction of reason.

When once stopping with a ministers family, I noticed
something strange in one of the children. The father observed
my looks, and said, <'Four years ago that child was the idol of
our family. He had been staying (>ne night at a brother minis-
ter's, where they had feasted him and he had enjoyed himself.
I eiwr him the next morning and he appeared to be stooping :
I said to him, 'Stand up, my child, stand up.' I put my hand
upon his shoulder and brough him round — in a fit 1 He ha8
them four and six times in a day. Sometimes he will say,
' Oh pray to God Almighty, father, for me ! Oh shall I be a
fool, shall I be an idiot ?' '' And that father at family prayer
poured out his soul for that child. '' Have mercy oh Re-
dcmer of man," he prayed, "on the child! for ofttlmes h«
falleth in the fire and ofttimes in the water." The mother
when they Avere speaking about it, wept like a child, and the
father said, '• It is breaking his mother's heart ; bur, hard as it
is, hiij mother and I would rather see him the thing he is,
than 8(!e him grow up to become a drunkard. ' There is not a
father or mother here, but would rather see a child struck, by

■',51

!•

God'.^ Providcnro, with apoplexy to-njg^lit, than sec him sont
reeling bcfor(! the jii<lgmt't)t-s('!vt. Let lis tliinic driinkennesg
BO lionible that no sacrifice is too j;r(;at to mai^e to escape
it T don't pr(!snme to say tliat every one of these hoys and
pirls here to-i)ij?ht mtiftt, if tliey should cont!nn(^ to drink,
become drunkards Not so. But I look on the evil of drunk-
enness as an evil so terrible, that the hare possibility should
be too terrible a thinj;^ for a father or mother to entertain
for one moment. Now, total abstinence from all that in-
toxicates is a safe principle. Let a boy adopt it and ho
cannot be a drunkard Remember, also, that we do not set
the princi[)lf of total a'stinence in place of the Gospel. By
no means. But what we say is, that drunkenness is a physi-
cal evil, as well as a moral evil. If you were to rank those
boys before me, and ask me which of them was most likely to
become a drunkard, I should not want to know what liis
education or breeding had b"en, or what his intellect, half
BO much as what is the temperament of tln3 child? Is
he of a cold, calculatinti;, selfish disposition, or is he onf! of
those little fellows full of fire and poetry, with a manly
g:enerous heart. Point out that hoy, — that is the hoy most
likely to become a drunl\ard ; because it is the influ^mci! of
alcoliolic stimulants u[)on the brain, and some cannot stand
it as others can. There are some men who drink to-day
what would mak'e me mad in forty-eight hours. Is it my
fa!ilt? If T am weak in the int(;llect or brain, I am as God
made me. Now the j^rinciple of total abstinence saves men
of every temperament from drunkenness. Suppose there were
two lines uf riilroad: on one there was an accident regularly
oncf! a week; sometimes on oni^ day and sometimes on
another, and on the other line there never had l)een an acci-
dent, and your son wanted to go the journey traversed by
the respective lines, and he were to say, *' Which line, father,
shall I take ?"' Would you dare to tell him to take tliat one
npon which the accidents were so frequent, — because it was
the most fashionable? — (Cheers). You Avonld say, "Take
the safest line," and that is just what we do. We do not, I
repeat, attempt to put total abstinence in the place of Chris-
tianity. I love the Bible better than I love the TemjK'rance
Pledge I love the Church of Christ better than I love all
the Temperance Societies in Christendom, and would rather
see every Temperance Society extinguished, tlian that the
true interests of Christ's Church should he injured an atom.
We don't seek to do that which only the Gospel can do. The
Governor of York Castle in taking me round the prison,
said, " If it wasn't for drink, we should have nothing Mr

Gongh, to do. If everybody here followed your example, wo
■hould have comparatively nothing to do." But a man may
become a reformed drunkard, but not regenerated. Thcro
is no virtue in the pledge to reform the man ; — there is to
reform the drunkard. And then I nsk you, is he not better
prepared to appreciate religious truth than when a drunkard?
Is it not a work which we may ask God to sanctify to a
higher end ? We ask parents, then, to help us. Oh ! I have
sometimes looked at a bright beautiful boy and my flesh
has crept within me at the thought that there was a bare
possibility he might become a drunkard. I once was playing
with a beautiful boy in the city of Norwich, Connecticut ;
I was carrying him to and fro on my back, both of us
enjoying ourselves exceedingly ; for I loved him, and I think
he loved me. During our play, I said to him " Harry,
will you go down with me to the side of that stone wall?"
*' Oh yes !" was his cheerful reply. We went together and
saw a man lying listlessly there, quite drunk, his face
upturned to the bright blue sky, the sunbea'ms that warmed
and clicrred and illumined us, lay upon his porous greasy
face, the pure morning wind kissed his parched lips and
passed away poisoned ; the very swine in the fi<'lds looked
more noble than he, for they were fulfilling the purposes of
their being. As I looked upon the poor degraded wretch,
and then looked u]ion that child, with his bright brow,
his beautiful blue eyes, his rosy cheeks, his pearly teeth and
ruby lips, the jierfect picture of life, peace and innocence ;
as I looked upon the man and then upon the child, and felt
his little hand convulsively twitching in mine, and saw his
little lips grow white, anil L.s eye dim, gazing upon the poor
drunkard ; then did I pray to God to give me an everlastingly
increasing capacity to hate with a burning hatred any in-
strumentality lliat could make such a thing of a being once
as fair as tliat child.

We seek to save children, then, from an influence, not
which must come upon them, but, wliich mai/, and we ask you
to help us. Total abstinence never yet injured one human
being. We have the certificate of 2000 of the first physicians
of the day, declaring that total abstinence is coniprttible .vith
health and strength, and that a man may give up intoxi-
cating liquors at once. Only think for a moment, that the
land would be swept of drunkenni-ss in twenty-five years, if.
no more drunkards were henceforth made. Shall any here
this evening help to fill up the ranks ? Shall your child

I: '

■tand nmonp those degraded beings who nre mowed down
every year by the ncythe of death ? The ranks are filled up
In pome way or other. Bear in mind, it is a sliding scale
gradually from the first class to the last, through all the
gradeg of moderation, so called, to drunkenness, and it is
from the ranks of the moderate drinkers that the drunkards
are drawn. We seek to save these children from those inlhi-
ences, and will jou help us? Is nny sacrifice too great?
You know, if you give a child in a healthy state any in-
toxicating drink, you give him what is not necessary, —
what is dangerous, and physicians tell us it produces a
positive injury. There is not a physician in the land who
does not know that >ihat is used as a medicine cannot be
properly used in a good state of health Then we maintain
that Total Abstinence is scriptural ; * were otherwise, I
should pray God to take from me t jwer of advocating
it. A gentleman said to me, it was unscriptural, becjuisc wo
have no direct command in the Bible, I know that — nor
have we any direct command in the Bible for those llagged
Schools of whioh your noble chairman is such a distinguished
patron-(Loud cheers)-nor for Early Closing Associations, and
other movements patronized by the heads of the various reli-
gious bodies ; you might as well say, they are anti-scriptural,
(Cheers.) I maintain, while I believe the Bible permits the use
of wine — although I am not learned enough to say whether
the wine spoken of in Scrij)ture was intoxicating or not —
that total abstinence is also lawfully scriptural. The Rechab-
itos took the pledge and were commendid when they refused
to break it. Daniel relused to drink the intoxicating draught,
and was justified in hisrefusal. The Nazarenes abstained from
flesh also. We believe it is both lawful and expedient to ab-
stain. We believe with glorious St. Paul, " It is good neither
to eat fli'sh nor drink wine, nor anything by which a brother
is stumbled and made weak." What is the ground upon which
we base our operations? Large-hearted benevolence and
self-denial. A gentleman told me that when speaking at a
place, he once said " Ladies and gentlemen, we arc not
laboring for ourselves, but for posterity. Posterity will
come and ask you, " What have you done for us ?" Fif-
teen years afterwards, he went to the same place to speak
again, and observed ])resent children of various ages — 15, 14,
10. He thought of what he said on the previous occasion,
and in addressing the audience, he observed, " Ladies and
gentlemen, fifteen years ago I said we were not laboring for

ourselves, but for posterity, and posterity would corao and
ftsk us what we had done. Posterity has come, and they are
here to-day — what have you done for them in the last fifte( a
years ?" What will you do in the next fifteen years for thoei
who are now coming up? We ask you, parents, to give tho
subject your serious prayerful consideration. I would not uso
any arguments to vxake people teetotallers that were not honesty
if I knew it. I have tried as far as I am able, to elevato
our standard, to keep it from trailing in the dust, and not
make our principles a matter of bargain.

An Independent minititer walked to Stroud from Cirencester
to hear me speak. He saj's the arguments used affected him
deeply. I had said, " I wish a man to sign the pledge if it is
right to do so ; if t is wrong, let it alone ; but be sure you aro
right, and if a man refuses to join, let hira have a reason of
which he is not ashamed — one that seems satisfactory to him
wh'^n he kneels down and asks God for a blessing ; let it bo
a reason you will be satisfied with when in your best moods,
one which will satisfy you when death's cold fingers are feel-
ing for your heart-strings, a reason you are willing should
meet you on that day whan you receive the reward for the
deeds done in the body." This minister told me he argued
the point with himself the whole twelve miles home — argu-
ing as if for life, stopping on the road and thrusting his
stick on the ground, bringing every reason up and carefully
examining it. He came to the conclusion that he had not
a reason against total abstinence which would stand the test
of the judgment. The next morning he signed the pledge,
and now he is ready to work with us. — Cheers. Have a rea-
son. The hope of our Temperance enterprise is the cliildren,
and again I say, " God bless tlie children ! God save them
from the influences tliat are degrading to so many thousands."
If we can but operate upon the children, we feel as if the
day of triumph would socn draw near. Will you help us?
help us for the sake of your own children and the children
of others, that tliese may be saved from the power and in-
fluence of intemperance.

I will not detain these cliildren further than to say, I am
sure I have had a very attentive audience. (Cheers.) Theso
boys and girls have behaved exceedingly well, and have dona
credit to-night to their instructors and teachers. I leave this
city this week for three months, but hope to come back again,
and back again, and back again-(loud cheers)-and if in the
spring v^e can get a large number of children together, with

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' all my heart I will come to speak for thcm.-(Loiid cheers.)
/While I am a Temperance Advocate, if I can further any
g'ood movement, especially any movement relating to child-
ren, I feel myself hound to do it with all ray heart. God hless
you, dear children, and throw the mantle of his love around
c you! God save you, and all dear to you, from the curse
which is fatal to so many. Such is my sincere and earnest
prayer 1 Good night to you all." — (Loud cheers kept up
enthusiastically by the children until Mr. Gough had re-
tired from sight.)

A vote of thanks being moved by Mr. T. B. SwiTmES and
seconded by Mk. Geary to the Right Honourab ■ the Earl
OF Shaftesbury, for presiding. — His Lordship in answer
said, I do not think thanks are due to me for sitting here,
and listening to the most eloquent, touching, convincing,
and effective address I have ever heard, or was ever delivered
on this or any other platform, but I am sure you will join with
me in thanking Mr. Gough, which I heartily do for his
efforts ; and I thank God who has brought him to this coun-
try, as I trust, to do a great work, and I am sure you will
promise w^th me to do as the children in America have done,
—help him to the best of our ability. The longer I live,
the more am I convinced that intemperance is the cause of
a very large amount of national evils, both at home and
abroad, and sinless it is obstructed in its onward march, it
will in this country, as well as in Australia, prove ruinous to
society. I feel also convinced, that the future destinies of
this great country are in the hands of such as those who
form the majority of the present interesting meeting ; and
it will bo by their instrumentality that those evils over
which we mourn will be ultimately removed. I again say,
that the future destinies of this land, my young friends, are
in your hciiius, and I would therefore exhort you to continue
combating with those evils, which have been so < loquently
placed before you this evening by our friend, IMr. Gough.—
We must have, by and by, a new generation of men and
women, and I may say that such men as Mr. Gough, and I
may also name Mr, Smithies, the Editor of that excellent
little paper addressed to the Bands of Hope, are doing much
towards bringing about that state of things which will
itanKpirc, when those of ns who have passed tlie meridian
of life, shall have ceased our labors, to better the condition
of society. His Lordship sat down amidst the warm ])laudits

of the meeting.

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! V

JOHN B. GOUGE'S
ADDRESS TO THE WORKING CLASSES.

Delivered in Exeter UaU, Monday, April 24lh, 1854

Ladies and Gkntlemen, — It gives me exceeding
pleasure, on my retuiu to London, to have the privilege of
addressing an audience such as I see before me. Your
President said that he would introduce Mr. McCurrey, a
working man ; and I felt as if, in introducing me to the
audience, he certainly might introduce to you a working
man also. My sympathies are with the working men ; I

consider it a

high honor

to be a working man ; and I

would not give any Mil ng for a man in any position in life
who was not a working man.

I come before you, ladies and gentlemen — (I said working
men ; I suppose there are working women here as well)
—I come before you to speak upon a subject that has
been discussed over and over again ; and I hardly suppose
that any person can bring new matter before a London
audience on the subject of temperance; but I have only
come to give you, as my brother McCurrey has, the rcbult of
experience and observation ; and I often find it a difficult
matter to get into the subject, because the points that
strike over the mind and upon which we base our argu-
ments, are conceded to us at once by the whole people.
Every individual here agrees with me that drunkenness is
an evil — there is no need of argument on that point. We
maintain that it is not only perfectly right and proper, but
that it is every man's bounden duty, to do all he can to
remove an evil — and you all know that ; wo maintain that
the ^vil of drunkenness is produced solely and entirely by
the use of intoxicating liquor as a beverage ; and we also
maintain that if the principles of total abstinence were
universally adopted and carried out, the tide of drunken-
ness would be rolled back from this land for ever ; and all
agree with us on these points, whether working men or
not. I have been very much surprfSed in travelling, to find
gentlemen meeting me in railway carriages and other
places, shaking hands with me, and saying, "It's a good
cause you are engaged in, Mr. Gough ; I believe you are
doing a great deal of good, and I wish you every success 8

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but I regret to say ihat I am not a total abstainer myself."
Gentlemen, I would rather have a bold, open, manly
opposer, that would take ground against mo, and declare,
" You are all wrong, and I will prove it." Very well, Sir,
prove it. We are ready to meet you with logic and argu-
ment and facts. "We have all the facts on our side. We
defy our opponents to bring such a fact as has stood before
you to-night — a redeemed man, lifting up free, unfettered
hands, and thanking God that he has burst the thongs
that bound him, and obtained a victory over his old enemy.
We have fact after fact of this kind. The fact ik, we have
but very little opposition to contend with, except this
ineering ridiculing ot our principles, this speaking con-
temptuously of our movement. But we say of this kind of
opposition just what the big blacksmith said of his wife.
He was about six feet tall, and broad in proportion, and
he had a little bit of a vixen of a wife, and she used to flog
him most unmercifully. Some one said to him, " Well
now, it I was as big a fellow as you, I would not stand that,
I'd let that spiteful little wretch know her place ; I'd soon,
let her see that I would be master." "Oh!" said he, "let
her alone, let her alone ; she's a poor little thing, and it
gratifies her a good deal, and it don't hurt me a bit." So
we say, if men sneer; let them sneer, until the lip grows
rigid with the curl they put upon it ; let them speak con-
temptuously of our movement — we mind it not a particle ;
we believe we have the best of the argument, and that all
the facts are on our side.

Now, allow me, if you please, just simply to appeal, as
far as I may be able, to the common sense and sound
judgr^ it of those who are 4n this assembly. Our
warfare is against the use of intoxicating liquor as a
beverage. We consider that intoxicating liquor is the
great enemy of the working men of this country. Look at
the cost of it, and that is but a small item. I do not be-
lieve that it is true, as has been said of the working men
in England, " a poor man once, a poor man always." I do
not believe there need be as much poverty and misery and
abject pauperism as there is. I believe the working men
in this city of London spend more money for beer and
Epirits than they are at all aware of, unless they count
the cost month by month and week by week. You have
all heard the story, probably, of a man who signed the
pledge for a year, and at the expiration of the year went

I.'

into the dram-shop. The landlord supposed he had come
for his drink, and began to feel by anticipation the poor
man's coppers rattling in his pocket. " What will you
have to drink ?" he asked. " Nothing at all ; I don't want
anything." "Well, but your year is up?" "I know that;
but I have got a terrible bunch on my side." " Ah ! I
thought you would have something ; knocking off drink
so qaick won't do, you had better have a little drop to
begin with — it will probably take that bunch away ; if
you don't, you'll probably have another grow on the other
side." "Oh! You think so do you? Well, here is the
bunch," pulling out a bag containing £20 ; " you say, if
I drink som(;thing it will take it away, and if I don't I shall
have another come just like it ? Yah !" Look, then, at
the cost of the thing. There is many a man hardly able to
jingle two halfpence together after Wednesday night, that
might, at the close of a year, have a bunch in his pocket
or by his side, that would give to his ftimily a great many
comforts and privileges they are now deprived of. I re-
member reading a tract ; it described a carpenter coming
home from bis work, with his tools on his shoulder ; and,
as usual, he went into a public-house to drink. He had the
three pennies in his hand all ready ; but the landlady-
was talking to her neigbour, and was not ready to serve
him. The door was open, and she heard a pianaforte. She
said, to her neighbour, " You have a pianoforte ?" " Yes,"
she said, " It's a new one : it cost seventy guineas ;
Aramantha Amelia is learning to play it ; and we have
got one of the first masters in the city to teach her."
"And you have got new furniture?" " Yes, we have got
new furniture, and our apartments are very splendidly lur-
nished." How did you get all these things?" "I'll tell
you ; it's the fool's pence that got them." The carpenter
thought for a moment. " Fool's pence ! there are three of
them," and he put them in his pocket; "you'll get no
more of mine." Now, then let the working man abjure his
beer and spirits, and he will find at the end of the year an
accumulation of property that will astonish him.

But I said just now, that this loss of means is but a small
item in the matter. Let us look at the effect produced
upon the man. I am not assuming that every individual
present is a drunkard, or is liable to become a drunkard-
even those of you who are in the habit of drinking : but
let us look for one momet at the influence of intoxicating

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liquor upon the men, and then as men we shall hate it.
You laugh at us in America for singing,

'• Hail, Columbia, happy land ;
Hail, ye heroes, heaven born band,
Who fought and bled in freedom's cause,"

and so on : because you say, it cannot ' "* a free and happy
land with three millions of slaves in hopeless chattel-
bondage? We bow down our heads and mourn over that;
but we say to you, you sing,

"Rule Brittania ; Brittania rules the waves ;
Britons never, never can be slaves ;''

and yet in this city of London are a set of abject, misern,ble,
creeping slaves; is in a bondage more teriibie than the
bondage of Egypt, or the ten-fold worse chattel-slavery of
the south. In Virginia a slave stood up before his brethren,
and said, "Brethren, this poor old body of mine is Master
Carr's slave : the bones, and the blood, and the sinews, and
the muscles belong to Master Carr ; but, thank God, my
goul is the freeman of the Lord Jesus." There is not a
drunkard on the face of the earth can say that. He is a
slave, body and mind ; every faculty he has is in bondage :
and the worst of it is, he is a self-made slave. The slave
in the south is not responsible for the degradation his
master puts upon him, when he sets his foot on him and
crushes him down ; the drunkard is responsible for every
gift God has given him : for his intellect and genius ; for
every power he has, he is responsible and accountable ; and
therefore his slavery is ten-fold more to be dreaded tlian
the slavery of the .south. And yet such is the deceptive
influence of the drink, tha,t while he is such a slave he
boasts of his freedom. Free 1 Go, if you please, into one
of your drinking-rooms, one of your gin-shops, one of your
public-houses ; see men standing at the counter j look at
that pale-faced, pallid-looking gin-drinker, : see the eyes
large and sunk deep in the sockets, as with his fingers, like
the claws of an unclean bird, he clutches that glass of gin.
Why he looks almost as if he had come up out of his grave
to get his gin, and had forgotten the way back again. It
is horrible to look at him. And yet that is a man ! See
that other standing; the dull waters of disease stagnant
in his eye — sensuality seated upon his cracked, swollen,
parched lip ; see him gibbering in all the idiocy of drunken-
ness. That is a manl I know it is sometimes hard to

look at the "blear-eyed, bloated sot, and feel " That is a
man 1" Have you ever seen that admirable picture by our
worthy chairman, "The man that thinks and acts, and tho
thing that drinks and smokes ?" I have looked at the two ;
and yet the one is just as much a man as the other. God
created him with the same faculties ; God made him up-
right — in the image of God created he him ; he gave him
dominion over the beasts of the field, and crowned him
lord of creation. That a man — a blear eyed, bloated thing
like that! A man I What has brought him to that?
Has he come to this position willingly and of his own
accord ? He has come to it by the deceptive influences of
drink— by coming to false conclusions and using false
arguments, some of which I will speak of for a minute.

When I -.«k men, young men especially who arc com-
mencing life, why it is they drink they ask mo why
1 put the question ? But if I say to you, " I am afraid
that if you drink you will become a drunkard," what will
you say to me ? You will say, " I am not such a fool as to
become a drunkard ; I have got a mind of my own ;" as if
every man who became a drunkard was a fool, and had no
mind of his own 1 " I can lea > it off when 1 have a mind to,
and I can drink when I have mind to ; just as if the man
"who became a drunkard never could leave it off when he had
a mind to, and drink when lie had a mind to I "I have got a
will of my own ;" just as if God never gave the drunkard a
a will 1 " I have a regard for my family ;" just as if the drunk-
ard was born destitute of natural affection 1 " I am not desti-
tute of ambition ;" just as if he came into the world, looking
below his present position for his future one ! Now here is the
deceptive influence of the thing. Every man who begins to
drink looks at the drunkard in the ditch, as a being who came
out of the hands of his Creator utterly destitute of the qual-
ities that the drink has robbed him of. Isow, is it so ? " Let
us see for a moment. Are they all fools who become drunk-
ards ? Oh ! I thank God that in the temperance enterprise
we have been able to prove this to a demonstration. They
are not all fools who become intemperate. Bright and
beautiful pearls have been washed by the foul tide of drunk-
enness under the black rocks of oblivion, and we have been
Bending the divers after them and bringing them up, some
of them flashing forth the fire of intellect to-day, and some
of them, thank God ! radiant with the hues of the Christian
graces. They are not all fools, in your acceptation of the

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term, who become intemperate. It is the influence upon the
mind, it is the influence upon the man, that I deplore more
than I do the influence upon the body. Fact after fact can
we bring before you, showing you men who were once steep-
ed to the lips in poverty and misery and wretchedness — men
who were like Ishmaelites of civilized society — their hand
against every man, because they believed every man's hand
was against them, now clothed and in their right mind, mani-
festing a power and an energy and a firiuncss of purpose and
a decision of character that astonishes many who knew them
in the days oftheirdarknessandof their drunkenness. " Fes,
but," says one, " I can let it alone when I have a mind to !"
Whenever I hear a man say that, I always make up my mind
to one thing, that he has not a mind to, and that he never in-
tends to have a mind to. This is a boast. " I can, but I
won't." Now, the boasting of the possession of a power is all
folly — for the power is of no value to any man unless he puts
it forth ; the power is valueless without a will to exereiso
that power. Suppose I lay on the railway track : some one
comes up to me, and says, " Get up, get up, the train is com-
ing." " You mind your own business ; I'm not fool enough
to be run over, am I ? I can get up when I've a mind to,
and I can lie here as long as I've a mind to, can't I ?" I
boast that I have a power — that I positively possess ; but I
have no will to exercise the power, and the train comes
thundering on, and cuts me in two. What am I ? I am a
self-murderer. I had the power. I had the warning, I re-
fused to exercise the power and when swift destruction came
upon me the power was taken from me. Every man that
dies a drunkard dies a suicide. He had the power to escape,
and he had the warning : there is not a man here who dares
to say, " I have bad no warning." Stop one moment : stop
and listen ; and you can hear the shrieks that come up from
the vortex — shrieks, piercing shrieks of despair, from those
who are sinking to rise no more : and your whole way is
lined with spectres that are pointing to the future of those
who heedlessly 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 just destroys his life at once."
I said to him, " Don't you consider a man is a suicide if
he shortens his life ten minutes ?" " No," said he, " I
don't." At that time there was a man under sentence of
death. " Now," said I " suppose ten minutes before that

man is to be hung, whtn he knows he can live but ten
minutes more, he cuts his throat, what is he?" " He is a
suicide certainly," " But he lias only shortened his life ten
minutes!" I believe that every man who shortens his
existence by the pursuit of gratification that is injurious
to his system, is in a degree a destroyer of his own life. " I
can, but I won't !" You remember, Samson was bound
three times, and each time Delilah said to him, " The Phi-
listines be upon thee, Samson," and three times he burst
the thongs that bound him, and stood up again free. By
and by he told her all his heart, and lay his head on her
lap, and she called a man of her people who sheared his
locks. Then she said to him, " T' e Philistines be upon
thee, Samson." What did he sp) " I will go out and
shake myself, as at other times! He went out; but the
power was gone, and helpless they took him and put out
his eyes. God pity any of you who hear me to-night who
ehall begin to feel the fetters of a habit gall you, and go out
to burst you free, and find the welded iron bonds entering
into your marrow, until you Mft up your shackled hands
to heaven, and cry, "Who shall deliver me from the slavery
of drunkenness?"' "I can, but I won't!" The most pain-
ful 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 b( fore the bar, or before the
counter. Has he any love for his family? His cry is—
*' Give me drink I I must have it Give me drink ! I
will give you my own hard earnings; but give me drink!
I will give you more than that. I married a wife ; I took
her from her girlhood's home ; I promised to love her and
cherish her and protect her, and I have driven her out to
■work for me. Ah ! ah ! I have stolen her wages, and I
have brought them to you ; I will give them to you, if you
will give me drink 1 More yet : I will give you the price
of bread that I snatched from the parched lips of my
famished child; I will give that to you, if you will give
me drink i More yet : I have got some money in my hand ;
I drove out my little child to lie and to cheat in the street,
and I will give you that. Yes, I have sold my child, body
and soul, and I will give you the payment. More yet;
I will give you my health; I will give you my humanity.
More yet : I will give you my hopes of heaven ; I will give

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yoii body and soul ; but give mc drink !" And tliero
are men in this city of London, that to-day are bartering
their birth-right for a dram, and selling their heritage for
drink 1"

" I can, but I won't I" " Ah 1 but," says some one, " I
have not got anything of this kind of appetite that you aro
speaking about ; a man must have a terrible appetite to
sacrifice everything for drink, but I have got none of that
appetite." I don't know that you have ; but 1 will givo
you a very easy method of testing whether you have or not.
You can either i^ay, " thou invisible spirit of wine ! if wo
had no other name by which to call thee, we would call
thee devil, but, devil as thou art, I am your master ; you
can either say that, or it is your master. You are cither
free from it, or you are not. Tliere may be different de-
grees of bondage. I will give you an easy method of testing
the matter. If to-night, attor you leave this meeting, or
to-morrow morning; you want to drink, what is that? It
is not a natural want ? God never sent any human being
into the world with a desire tor stimulant ; if you never
use it you will never want it ; if your boy never drinks it he
will never desire it. The want, if you have it, is produced
by the use of the article you Avant. Now, sec how strong
that want is. The next time you want drink, just let it
alone ; go about your business, and you will begin to feel
nervous, and irritable, and cross, things don't go right — " I

believe I must go and have a " Ah ! just let it alone.

Sit down to dinner ; you have no appetite — " I really believe
I need a tonic." Now just let it alone. We have the testi-
mony of two thousand physicians in this country, who have
put their names to this document, that a man can at once
give up the use of intoxicating liquor as a beverage with no
detriment to his health ; and a surgeon of one of our prisons
tells me, " The very morning we put a prisoner into jail we
make a teetotaller of him and I never knew a death from that
circumstance." Now, it won't hurt you ; just let it alone. But
how long must I let it alone ? Let it alone till you don't
want it any more. My word for it, some of you will have to
fight for a month, for two months, for three or four months.
Just fight against the desire for stimulant in your system,
"which is produced there by the very article you want, and
which has a faster hold of you than you dream of. A young
man said to me, after he had given it a trial — " Gough 1
I'll never touch it again ; I had no conception that drink

had such hold of me ; I thought I could leave it off when
I'd a mind ; but I had to fight against it, and fight as if I
were fighting for my life ; now I will have no more of it."
Some people say, " I've tried it some time, but it don't
Buit me." Why don't it suit them ? I'll tell you. Because
they don't try it long enough.

A gentleman in a certain town in this country where I
spoke, after the second meeting went home, and the porter
■was put on the supper table. The servant was just leaving
the room, and he said, " Jane ! Jane ! Jane ! Come here ;
take away that porter, Jane ! I'm not going to drink
any more porter." Jane took away the porter. The next
morning he came in to lunch about one o'clock, and
there was no porter on the table. As the servant was
going out, he called her back and said, " Jane, bring in the
porter ; I've stood it so long, I can't stand it any longer !"
I suppose that man would say he had no appetite ; and
yet he could not stand it without his porter for twenty-
four hours.

I tell you, sir, if you find it a difficult matter to <iuit
your drink to-day, it will be easier for you to quit it to-
night than it ever will be again in this world. '' Yes, but
when I find out it is doing me an injury, then I will give
it up."' Tliat is making an admission and coming to a
conclusion." The admission is true, the coneluf^ion is
false. You admit it may injure you, and when it has — no,
there would be some sense in that, but when you Jhid oui
that it lias injured you, then you will quit it. You won't
• use such Jin argument in reference to any otlu'r matter. —
"I will put my hand into the den of a rattlesnake, and
when 1 find out that he has struck his fangs into nie I will
draw it out and get it cured as quickly as possible." There
is no common sense in that. 1 heard once tliat a man said
he could pilot a veivsel into Boston harbor, knowing as ho
did, the rocks and shoals and bad places. lie said to the
cai)lain, " 1 wil! stand amidshi])s, and you take the lulm ; I
will give you fair warning." The vessel went along, and
Boon struck against a rock, knocking everybody down who
was on deck. The pilot jumped up, and rubbing the place
where he was hurt, shouted out, "Captain! there's one of
them." Now we want to say to these young men, " There's
one of them; there's the rock upon which we split; hard
up your helm; sheer off before you strike." Y'ou would not
have a man coming round the corner with a long pole stick it

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In your eye, and then call out, " Take care !" Why didn't
you say ' take care ' before ?"

I look back at my own history, at the time when I was
a bookbinder, working at my trade. I signed the pledge
when I was twenty-five years of age ; and I began to drink
when I was eighteen. I know something of the deceitful
influences of the drink and the power of the appetite, I
boasted, like others, " When I find out that it is injuring
me, I will quit it." When did I find it out? I will tell
you. When I found the iron entering my soul, and when I
began to mourn over the past. It was when God saw fit
to strip me of everything and left me alone for just what I
was worth ; when the last being but one that I supposed I
had who was of any degree of nearness to me was put into
the grave, and I stood alone. Then was it that, baring my
brow to the cool breeze at three o'clock one summer morn-
ing, I acknowledged — " I am a drunkard, God pity me !"
It is by degrees that a man gets to the point, but it is not
fio that the truths come upon him ; it is not like the
daylight standing tip-toe on the mountain top, sending
shadows forth sharper in their outlines to meet him ; no,
the revelation of his state comes upon him like a flash of
lightning, blazing upon his sight, he. turns his vision*into
his own heart and feelings, and declares that of all the
creatures on the face of God's footstool, he is the most
destitute, the most miserable, and the most utterly hopeless.
You sa}', " Well then I would give it up. You cannot.
But, perhaps, that word should not be used ; at least, you
find it harder to give it up than you ever dreamed you
should find it, I have heard some men declare, " I can-
not do it!' and an educated man once said, " Doctor, if a
glass of brandy were set here before me, and I knew that if
I drank it I should sink the next minute into an everlast-
ing hell, I'd drink it." The man was on bis death-bed,
and the fact is related in the llev, W. Reid's Temper-
ance Uncyclopiedia. A physician of Greenock once told
me, " Mr. Gough, a few weeks since I had a most horrible
case. A man, when intoxieutcd, cut his throat. I sewt-d
it up as well as I could, but the poor fellow must die.—
They sent for a minister; the man lay on his back and
waved his hand, but could scarcely avticulate to express
his meaning. Tliey said, " Do you want a minister ?" He
shook his head, waved his hand again, and moved his lips.
The doctor stooped, and put his ear to the man's mouth but

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he could not hear what he said. At hist the man took his
fingers and fairly pinched the wound close, and feebly artic-
ulated, " Doctor, for Christ's sake, give me another glass."
I say an appetite like that no man has power to describe, or
imagination to conceive. You may form some conception of
it by seeing what men will give up to gratify it. We are in
the habit of calling the drunkard a brute. Sometimes indig-
nation thrills right through the veins, sending the blood
hot to the tips of the fingers, when we hear of the brutal out-
rages perpetrated under the influence of drink.

When I came to this country I noticed particularly the
accounts of the abuse of wives by husbands ; but I assure
you I did not find one case of a teetotaller whipping his
wife. I don't mean to say that there are rot among teeto-
tallers some very mean men ; I do not say that because a
man is a teetotaller he has got every virtue under the sun.
There are some shocking mean men among them ; but I
would rather have a mean teetotaller than a mean drunk-
ard, you know ; so that we have done them some good by
gettiiig ill' m to sign the pledge. Now, a man 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,
and his wife annoys him, whatever the provocation, how-
ever long her toni;ue may be, however aggravating she is
—and tliey can be awful aggravating sometimes — if she
makes his house a perfect hell for him, if he cannot stand
it let him act like a man, and run away I If 1 saw a man
running throut;h the streets and a woman after him, I
should say, " You aw a brave fellow, go it." But the moment
he should turn round and strike the woman I would say,
*f Ah ! you are a coward."

I was once asked to go and see a drunkard — the worst,
they said, in the whole town. I said, "You have no right
to ask me to go and see him unless he wislies to see me ; if
he comes to me I will see him ; or if he wishes me to go to
his house I svill go." If I went unbidden he might say,
^' Who told you I was a drunkard? mind your own busi-
ness and I will mind mine ; wait until I send for you." 1
have no more riglit to go into the poor man's house than
into that splendid mansion. The servants would turn me
out there ; and the working man has as much pride as
another man. " Ikit," it was replied," " the man beat a
little girl fourteen y(ais of age (and she will carry tho
murks to her grave) because she went to bed before he

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went home." "I do not want," I said, "to go to such a
man." But, his wife is very ill with a Itilious fever, and
the doctor thinks she cannot get over it; tht^ man has not
been drinking for some days, and if you could s(fe him now
I hclieve yon might do him some good." Under these
circumstancea I said I would go, and I >vent accordingly,
and tried to make some excuse for calling. When he camo
to tlic door ho knew me. " Mr. Gough," he said. " Yes,"
■aid I, "will you give me a tumbler of water, if you
please?" " yes, wont you walk in?" I then walked in,
and I sat on one side of the tal)le, and ho the other. Two
little children were playing in the room; and a door was
half oi-rned wlilch led into another room where the wife
was lying ill. I h(>gan to talk to the man about everything
I couhl tliliik of but ^ mperauce — about trader, the crops,
railroads, till I ^ot on to drink — tlien he headed mo otf. I
began again, and talked al'Oi't Ih; badness of the roads,
travelling, busin* ;, drink — he headed me off again. I
tancied I saw a malicious smile In his eyes, as much as to
say, •' Vonng nan yo'r are not up to your bu.-iness yet;"
and I th(Might I must yive it up. Providentially I thought
of the children, and I said, " Pretty looking (hiidren those,
sir." " Yes sir," said ho, " they are pretty good children.''
"And you love your children, don't you?" Bless the
children!'' said he, "to be sure I do." "And vou would
do anything in the world to benefit them,wouMn't you?"
I asked. Then he looked as if he expected something else
was coming ; but he said, "Yes, to be sure, I oiiglit to bo
willing to benefit my eliildren." '-Well," said T, "lam
going to ask you a plain, simple question— '.on't be angry
with me — suppose you never drank any more Ihpior as long
as you lived, don't yon think those cliildven would be better
ofi'?"' "Weil," he said; apiiart-ntly pu/zled, "I own you
have got me this time ; tlie chlblren would be better off if
I were to »iuit drink." "And you have a good wife, haven't
you," I inquired. "Yes, she is as good a wife; as ever a
man had." " And you love your Av-fo?'' "To be sure I
do." "And would do anything to please her ?" "Well, I
ought to." "Now," said T, "suppose you should sign the
pledge, would that ])lease he-?"' " by thunder, I guess it
would ; I couldn't do a thing that wo'ild please her like that.
If I signed the pledge I believe my old woman would bo
about her business in two weeks." " Then you will do it,
won't you?'' " I guess I wil! :'" and he at once spread out

the paper, squared his yards, and wrote his name. The
childitMi luid bi'on list«^iiing with «'yu8 widij open, looking
like littl(! naucers, as we were talking about temperanco.
One said to the other, "Father has signed the phdge."
"Oh!" cried tlie other, astoni-hed, "I will go and tell
mother," and iway she ran. Tlie motlxr, when she heard
it, called out " Luke, Luke, come in here." Tlie man went
in, and took me with him. The wife's face was ghastly pale,
till! e} e large, and sunk in the socket: with her long,
thin lingers she grip[)ed my hand, and with the other took
the hand of her husl»and ; and her face, sharjt as it was,
looked radiant in the light that seeratd to bathe it, coming
from the throne of everlasting love. She then told me
what a good husb'ud she hud. "Luke," she said, "is a
kind husband and a gootl lather; he takes caic of the
family and is very kind to lluni, but the dririk, you know^
sometimes makes a little difliculty." Oh! that little diffi-
culty! God only and the crushed drunkard's wife kn<»vr
what it is. The man shook like a leaf: thm tearing
down his wile's night dress, he said: "Look at that!"
On her white shoulder.-^ was a bad-looking mark. Again,
he said, " Look at that 1" and 1 saw a bruis ; on her neck,
which mad(! my flesh creep. "Three days befuro she was
taken sick," he said, " 1 struck her — God forgive me! She
has been telling you she bus got a good husband. Am
I? Am I a good husband? Look at that ! God Almightj
forgive me." He bowed over that woman, and I never
saw a man cry so in my life; it seemed as if he had
gone into convulsions. " Don't cry, Luke, " sobbed his
wife, "don't, please don't; you would not have struck
me if it hadn't been for the driidv ; now you have
signed the pledge we shall all be happy again. Don't
cry."

These are the men you call brutes, fiends, devils. Strip
them of the damning influence of drink, and they are men.
There is no power on earth that will make a man a fiend
like the power of drink. Young man, sitting now beside
that young girl whom you hope to make yo'ir wife. You
never dream as you look lovingly in her face, that your
hand will ever be dashed into that face, sending the blood
spouting trom the mouth. It never will, unless you do it
under the Influence of drink. Let me say to you, youi.g
woman, if you nerer wish to become that pitiful thing, a
drimkard's wife, if you never wish to know what bard usage

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and hard liringand hurd blows are-if jou never wish to reap
.A#bi ter harvest of wot-, never, on any consideration whatever,
'^o with your sweetheart into a drinking iiouse — never 1 I
have felt deep sympatliy with those wives who have been
bruised and beaten, but I confess my sympathy has not
always been increased by a knowledge of the facts. In
your large towns I have sometimes looked into your gin-
shops and drinking houses, ami I have seen young women,
respectable in appearance, go into tliem arm in arm with
artizaus, their lovers, while out of the same door came the
blaspheming woman and the cursing man. I have felt on
seeing them, — if that is the way young wonien exert an
influence over those whom they intend to make their
husbands, what wonder if in bitterness and anguish they
have to repent by and by. Voung woman, stand up and
»ay to the man who telU you he loves you, "Manifest your
love to me as a man, but never ask me to go wh<re drink
is sold, to partake with you of that which has debased, de-
graded, ruined and diilionoured more women than any
other ten intUiences on the face of the whole earth."

Some men are irresisti].)ly comical in their drunkenness,
going about they don't know where. They remind me of
the story of a boy walking through the streets with a
couple of dogs. Some one .»^aid to him, "Where are those
dogs going?'' " I don't know," was tie reply, "they have
come in liy the coach, and have eat.n their direction." —
These men positively look as if they had drunk thi.ir direc-
tions, and did not know where they were going. Other
men assume t^uch airs of importance that you cannot help
laughing at them. Ont; man said to another, " liook here;
if you want to borrow a tln»usand pounds in your business,
•omo dowu to my offici-, and 1 shall be very happy to lend it
you." His friend thought he coubi use a ih<;usand pounds
admirably, and he went to hi.'i friend the next morning, and
raid, •' You told me if I came to your office, you could let mo
have a thousand pounds to use in my business.' "Did I ?"
'*Y(S." "Well, 1 haven't got it now, but I may have it by
night."

I heard of a fact, and I know it to be true, that a man
came into his own house drunk. He caught hold of hia
little child, tliiUht her hand into a trap, and started the spring ;
and there he stood laughing like a devil as the child shriek-
ed with pain, hi r tender fingers being lacerated and torn by
the sharp teeth of the trap.

I saw ono sight the re mcTnb ranee of which is burned into
my brain ; indeed after that sight 1 neither slept nor at€f for
twenty-four hours. I was asked by a gentU'man, nani^
Johnson, to go and see a family. The wife, he said, wa^very
ill, and the husband was a drunkard ; he had graduated at
the University of Glasgow, and he received from England
about jL'100 a year in quarterly payments, but it was gener-
ally all spent before he received it. I saw the family. On
a bed raised about four inches from the floor lay a woman
dead, her eyes open and staring as only dead eyes can stare,
and the mouth partly open. Two little children were there,
and a i)ail in which there had becm whiskey, stood on the
floor. A half-drunk crone of a woman sat crouching by the
flre-place smoking a pipe, the man was drunk, Mr, Johnson
said to him, " I am sorry to find your wife gone." " No," said
he, " she isn't, she isn't, she isn't dead," Mr, Johnson, " Sit
down, sir," said he. "She's served me the same trick before,"
said the husband ; and he got down a small looking glass and
held it over i;er parted lips. " Look," he said, " there's breath
on the glass." " Sit down, sir, or I will have an officer for
you." That made the man angry, and he sprang up, and said
with a horrible, blasphemous expression, " she isn't dead, and
I'll prove it ;" and so saying he dashed his fist in her face,
mutilating it so tliat they had to cover it with a blanket, I
say, then, that whether a man is a jibing fool, a miserable
mountebank, a fighting bully, a wretched coward, or a raving
madman,drunkenness is debasing, degrading,blasting, blight-
ing, withering, mildewing, damning, to all that is noble and
bright, and glorious, and beautiful, and lovely in a human
being.

I say there is no good in intoxicating licjuors. " Yes, but,"
say some, ''I know better than that." As 1 was comin^r across
in the steam-ship America, a person on board, who called him-
self a gentleman, I suppose, tried to insult me ; but such a
gentleman, never can insult me, and so he failed. " What!"
said he, "going to Great Britain to tell the Englishman that
he must give u]) his beer I Why, be<'r is tlie life of an English-
man," I thought to myself, " Whata beery sort of existence
that must be," But some say, " I can do better with beer
than without it," I doubt it. Have you ever tried long
enough ? Remember that in every 100 gallons of beer there
are 91^ gallons of water, and 5 gallons of alcohol. So far you
have water «and poison, there is no nutriment yet ; about 3
gallons of what ia called extractive is all the nourishment

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you can obtain. If you boil a gallon of beer you will find
all the nourishment sticking to the bottom of the k tth ;ancl
k nice looking moss it is too. Baron Liebig says, that if a man
drink eight quarts of the strongest ale per day, he gets as
much nourishment as there is in the flour whicli you am
hold on th(! i)Oint of a knifn: and if he drinks that quantity
everyday in the ytar, he will get as much nourishment aa
there is in a five pound loaf of bread or about three pounds
of meat. But a man may say, " I can do more work under
the influence of beer than without it-" You may. A man
under the influence of stimulants n ny lift more than at other
times ; bnt is that any good to him ? Supi)ose a horse can-
not stait a very heavy load, and you say he shall ilo it. You
bring up your reins and hallo ; the horse puts his shoulder
to the collar and strains \ath all his might, but he doesn't
start. Your neighbor says he can't start, but you say he
shall. You bring up yotu- reins again ; the horse puts his
shonlricr to the (ollar, every nerve stands out in bold relief;
you take that big black whip of yours, and as h j is straining
to the utmost you hit him a tenible crack on the flank, and
he starts the 1 ad. But did you gi .e him strength? No, you
gave him stimulant ; you made him do wliat he had no right
to do, and what you had no right to make him do. Any man
who does work under the influence of stimulant, (whether
in the coal pit, or in the iron mine, whetlier at the forge, or
at the bene h, on the platform or in the pidpit),that he could
not do vNithout it, does it to the damage to his constitution,
pay-flay wdl come by and by. Nature is a hard creditor ; in-
terest accumulates, and wlien 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 ia it is all at the timo
of drinking. Did you ever experience any gratification the
next morning after a drinking night? The gratification
was produced by stimulating the system. Then there is a
reaction -it must come. My word for it, the beer and
spirit drinkers enjoy less of this world's good than any other
class of men among us, they are either in fiery excitement,
their brain bewildered, their senses confused, and their capa-
city to enjoy destroyed for the *ime being; or else they are
recovering from excess of excitement, and feel most miser-
able and wn tchcd. Then do not common sense and sound
judgment dictate to you to abandon intoxicating liquors for
ever? "But," says oome, "I won't sign away my liber-

ty." What liberty ? I have seen men in this city with lib-
erty to fall down, but no liberty to get up again unless they
are helped. I consider that I never knew what freedom was
while I was a rJrunkard. The drunkard is the most abject
slave on th«^ face of the earth.

How niiiny drinking nicu put themselves in positions of
which they are ashamed! J heard of one of these young
men who never would "sign away their libeity," who used
to go courting a young lady. He used to drink a great deal
and when he got so intoxicated that he could not s -e his
Diilcinea, he would take to his father-in-law that was to be.
On one of these occasions, his f<ither-in-law told him there
was a fine lot of sheep that would come to him, some hordes
and son. e fine pigs, adding, " I should like you to look at
the pigs " " I sliould like to see tkem very we'.L" said the
young man. Stooping to look into the pen, over he went. The
hogs did not like the intrusion of a drunkard, so they huffed
at him. He didn't like that, and raising himself up as well
as he could, he said, '' Hold your tongue; I consider myself
full asgcjodasany of sou." 1 should like to know if any of you
young la .ies would like to walk up and down with a young
gentleman who at any time considered himself full as good as
hogs. Yet this young man hid liberty — freedom. People do
not act with i onimon si-nse iti this matter as they do in others.
I have reail «)f a Yankee who went into an apothecary's shop
in 1 >ton. " Are you a drugger?' he asked. I am an apo-
thecary, and I s<ll drug>." " Well, have you got any of these
here seentin' stuffs f.jr gals to i)ut on their handkerchiefs?"
*'Yes, 1 have." " Well, my sister Sal gave mc ninepence,
and lold nie <0 invest the whole in scents,and I should like to
smell a fiw specimens." " H^ re is some essence of pepper-
mint," said the chemist. " Oh, that's royal," said the man.
" lit re is some essence of lemon." " That's royaller.'' At
last the apothecary took some essence of hartshorn. " i his,"
sai't he. " is a very subtle essence, and if you want to get the
virtue of it, th<' pure scent, you must draw as hard as you
can ; a sim[)le sniff will do no good." « H )ld on a minute,"
Baid the man, *' till I get ready ;" and then taking in a good
br. atli, over he went. Now what did he do ? Did he get up
and snull again? No, he had too much common sense: as
8«)on a^ he got on his fei t, le squared his arms and began to
Rh(>w fight, saying, " If you make me smell that 'tarnalever-
lastin' stuff again, I'll make you smell fire and brimstone."
There was some common sense in that. Yet in the matter

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of drinking men go np to their old enemy ; he knocks them
over ; up they get, and over they go again, and so it continues
until they have hardly strength enough to bring themselves
up upon their hands and knees to kiss the foot of their
enemy who, with the next spurn, sends the poor shrieking
spirit into eternity infatuated by the influen es of drink.
Yet men boast that they will not "sign away their privileges."
I look back upon the past. For seven years I was a slave,
a poor, whipped, branded slave, wandering over God's beauti-
ful earth like an tmbless'd spirit ; whipped over the burning
desert, digging deep wells to quench my thirst, and bring-
ing out dry. hot sand ; stitped to the lips in
poverty, misery, wretchedness, want and woe. "Ah!"
you may say, "You were a weak minded man." You may
call me weak-minded if you please. I acknowledge that I
became a drunkard (as some of you have, perhaps) in trying
to be a moderate drinker, and failing. I cannot be a mod-
erate drinker. Persons havt^ said that I am weak-minded
when I hav(^ made that admission ; but I am in good com-
pany. I have reud that Dr. Johnston, in a tour to the
Hebrides, was asked to take wine. -'I cannot," he said,
" for with me moderation is excess." " But certainly you
can carry off one glass " " No, ma' lam," sjiid the doctor,
" it would carry me off." Is that a mati's fault? Is it my
fault that the first glass goes like fin- in my blood, that the
second glass aff.cts every nerve of my frame, that the third
makes me sing and leap and laugh, and that the fourth makes
me drink another ? I was so weak that the livery of my
master had become like a garment of burning poison ; yet
I hugged it to me. I was so weak that the living corpse of
drunkenness was bound to my body by thongs I felt I could
not sever ; it was a horrible puti'efying mass, foot to foot,
hand to hand, henrt to heart, one beating with life, the
other rotting with putrefaction. I was so weak that I lay
prostrate while tht! pale horse with Death for his rider, was
about to trample me with his iron-bound hoofs into a
dr-mkard's hell ; yet, weak as I was, I thank God that he
gave me power to seize that hor.se by the bridle, and bring
him upon his haunches, and hold up free, unfettered hands
to nijj;ht. Yes, free, not a drop of the damning drink in
my system — free to love and to be beloved — tree to stand
up a man — free to think — free to look into the future and
see the dark pall that hung over the drunkard's grave
looi ed, and a bright, beaming star of hope dawning upon my

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path — so that I am free to hope, free to stand up a8 a man,
free to pray. Ah 1 ah ! if I cannot be a moderate drinker,
thank God, I can be a total abstainer.

We offer you this, working men ; and we offer you also th«
opportunity of doing good. Is not that worth something?
The last Sunday niglit in October, 1842, a young man fixed
his eye upon me. His name had never been heard out of
the circle of his acquaintance ; he had never uttered a word
in public in his life ; he never had been on a committee ;
he was a hard-working man struggling against poverty-
quiet, unobtrusive, self-sacrificing, in every good work.—
What do think his plan was? He would fix his eye
upo 1 some victim of this vice, and would say, " Now to
that man I will bend my energies; I will work over him
and lay by him until he dies or I die." By that means he
saved more than a score. He was a perfect stranger to me.
He was dressed very decently, and he came up atid laid his
hand on my shoulder and said, " Mr. Gough, I believe?" "That
is my name," said I. Said he, " You've been <irinkiug to-day,
haven't you? " That was enough to make me turn right round
in a fury, and ask him what his business was with me. But
Mrs. Stowe says in her Uncle Toms Cabin that when Jesus
would do good to the poor, he went and laid his hands on
them; and if you expect to do good to your brother you cannot
do it b}' standing afar off and pointing; you must lay your
hand on him. Don't be afraid of defiling your fingers with
the mire of the kennel ; plunge your arm in up to the elbow
to drag him out ; never mind, if you put both arms right un-
der him and bring your own face down to the fetid pool in
which he lies in his degradation, if you can bring him up.—
That is the doctrine on which we move in this enterprise.
As the young man said what was offensive to me, he put hig
arm in mine and walked with me. I was shabby ; he was
not ; and as I looked at him from head to foot I said to my-
self, " If you have no objections to walk with me, I. don't see
that I should have any objection to walk with you." Walk-
ing along he said, " I want you to sign the pledge." " I'll
never do it — never — as long as I live ; nobody in the world
cares for me : if I died in a ditch there wouldn't be a tear shed
and 111 drink as long as I live." " Well, but you haven't
always talked like that." " No," said I, " I have not " "And
you have not always felt as you now feel?" "No, I have
not." " How should you like to feel as I feel — as you did be-
fore you began to drink ?' " First rate ; but I never shall ; I

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shall never see those good days again as long as I live."—
" Put your name to the pledge," Eaid he, " and you will see
better days :I don't know many people in town, but I will
introduce you to the few T know ; put your name to the tem-
perance pledge, and we will make a man of you y. t." " No,
I will not." " Yes, you will." «« No." " Yes." " No.'' «' You
will see better days than ever you saw before.'' " Well, then
I will do it." ""when will you do it?" » I won't do it to-
night ; you are going to have a temperance meeting to-mor-
row night, and I'll come there and do it." If lie had .said, I
don't believe you will, you had better do it at once, I believe
I should have said, " Now, I won't touch the pledge ; you
mind your own bu.sinessand I'll uiind mine." But he gave
me his hand, and said, '• That's right, 1 will come and see vou
do it." " So you shall," I said, "and 111 eome it I die for it; if
they have to carry me there I'll do it;" and I gripped his
hand with all my might. I drank that night and the next
morninu:. In the evening I went to the meeting and saw my
friend there. " You see I am here," 1 said. " Yes," said he,
" I knew you would come when you said so " " Did you,
though?" " Yes, I did." In the course ot the meetiiiir I ask-
ed if 1 might sav a few words, and the president said, " Yes,
sir " I know he said Sir — T remember that. I then went for-
ward and faced an audience for the fust time in my life. Somo
young men began to laugh, and my old spirit came into m\
"What are you laughing. t ?" I said, " I am as good as yo'i, any-
how ; I have seen th- time when I could get in be.*ter c(»mpany
than any of you, and pay f -r a better snii of clothes than your
tailor ever trusted yon for." A sense of my tbsolation came o-
verme,and I said, " It is thi.s ae( ursed drink that made me a
bankrupt in fortune and reputat'on, but I am going to put my
name to the pledge " And when I signed it I went away,
chuckling to myself, saying, " I've done it, I've done it, I'vo
done it," like the school-boy whistling in the churchyard, " to
keep my courage up." " I've done it, I've done it !" A man
came after nic and struck nie on the back, and said, " If I
hadn't seen it, 1 wouldn't have believed it." " Yes, " said I,
" I've done it !" I went home, and then began the tight.
It was a terrible fight, and no man that never experienced
it can know anything of it. For one year I never saw a
waking hour, ('ay nor ni"ht, but with all the power I had
in my system T wanted drink. It was one continual fi.jjrht,
tintil I felt that it must last as long a>5 I lived. Thank God,
I am free to-night. You may ask, " Have you no appetite ?"

"I don't know, and God helping me, I will die in blissful
ignorance of the fact." That young man met me before T
Kit the United States, and he said, " Well John how do
you do?" Doing vory well — first rate," I said. "You
have been to a good many places, havn't you 7" " Yes.
I am working at tlie same old trade." " How many names
do you tliiiik you have got on the pledge ?" " Well," I said,
" I kept account for two years, and I think there were
about 265,000 " *' And how many of those do you think
were reformed drunkards?' " About 50,000 or 60,000. But
some fall away, and have to be renewed, for it is a hard
thin^r to save a drunkard ; but we have saved a good many."
" Some of those, 1 sui>pose have got others ?" He asked,
" Oh yes, a good many." Tlie tears run down the young
man's < heek as he gripped my hand. *' Well John," he said
" When I put my hand on your shoulder and made up my
mind to stick to you till you signed the pledge, I had
no conception of this. Here you are going up and down the
country and getting names to the pledge. Oh! John if I
had never done anything but that in my whole life, I
should thank God upon my death-bed, that ever I laid my
hand upon your shoulder."

I say to you, go and do likewise. If each teetotaller
would pick out a man in tliis way, we should have such
additions to the ttmptrance ranks as would astonish them.
This is a noble enterprise. I know it requires some self-
d( nial, but our principle is a manly one — total abstinence.
We can have no compromise. What would be the result
if we allowed any compromise? A man once got up at a
meeting which I held, and said, "I will sign the pledge if
you will 1ft ine have a little drop when I want it as a
medicine " When I see a man proscribing for sickness so
long in advance, I always Icok at him with suspicion. I
said, " When the doctor prescribes it, you may take it."
" r*ut," said he, " I don't want to go to the doctor every
time I am sick, I want to take a little when I need it; if
you will let me do that I will join the society, because I
thijik you are doing a great work." Any one would give
us his name in that way, for it would cost him nothing.
"Whin I fe( 1 I need it! It is very cold to-day; I shiver
from head to foot, I uuist have a little something because
it is so cold." Or, ' it is very hot to-day, dear me! Such
weather as this swelters a man to death, I must have
Bomething to keep me up in sucli hot weather."

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Another man drinks a little in Rumnipr time, because
there are insects in the water, and spirits kill them. Ant ther
wants something in winter time, because it is so awful
to drink cold water. Another man is very ill. For eighteea
years he has taken the same remedy, and he will go and try
a little more of it. Another is tolerably well, but the glass
is falling, and the last time the wind was in that quarter
it gave him a terrible pain. He took a little something as
a preventive, and he will try it once more. This reminds
one of the man who wanted sora« brandy and water. I
must have it, he said, this morning, because I am so dry,
but what makes me dry I do not know, unless it is that I
am going to have some salt fish for dinner. In the United
States a man said he would sign the pledge if they would
let him drink when they washcrci sheep, that being usually
done only once a year. He took the pledge accordingly,
and he got a hold ot a sheep and kept her in his barn, and
washed her regularly four times a day all the year round.

We must have no compromise of principle. We should
sink our enterprise beneath the contempt of those who des-
pise it now, if we admitted such a compromise. Working-
men of the City of London, brethren in trade, I ask you to
look t'lt this enterprise. Is it not manly? Is there not
something noble in it, to say, "I will abstain!" lam
free — free to come — free to go ! I will exert an influence
for others ; I will drop a pebble into the ocean, the centre
of which is everywhere, and th(; cireumfer«*nce nowhere I
will drop it there, praying that the ripple may increase
until it shall be like a wave bearing, p' rhaps, upon its
bosom, some souls saved by my instrumentality? We
are here in this world to do good, and we cannot do good
without its costinu us something. Every benevolent enter-
prise costs something to tliost; who a<lopt its principles.
Will you not aid us in this work ? Working men of this
city, there is power enough heie in this room to shake
London, large as it is; aye, to move this beam off your
metropolis.

Working-men you can ]>ut the trumpet to your lips
to-night, and blow such a blast as will wake up the dull,
dead, stocks and stones, in our cburches, our counting
houses, and our workshops. We shall go on to victory and
to triumph. You have the power to do this, and I believe
you will exert it. I know it will be said that we need the
influence of other classes. So we do : but if there is no

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work of reform going on among you, we may just a? well
keep it exclusively to a certain circle for all the good that
will be permanently accomplished for the benefit of all.
Our benevolence is large. The man is a base slave whose
love of right is not for all his race, but only for himself.
Our enterprise is in advance of the public sentiment of the
age. Every good enterprise has been in advance of the
public sentiment, and I would not give much for an enter-
prise that was not. Then come and help us. Roll on this
glorious car with thanksgiving and songs of praise from
those who have been redeemed from the power of the
destroyer. Will you help us? That is the question. As
a minister once said at the close of the sermon, " You are
ready to exclaim, ' Is it all done ?' No, it is all said ; it
remains with you to say whether it shall be done-" That
God may give you the will, and the desire, and the strength,
and the power," to battle against the enemy to the working-
class of this city is my sincere and earnest prayer.

I thank you for you patience. I do not believe that an
audience like this could have assembled in many places-
some standing in such uneasy positions — and be as quiet and
orderly as you have been. Some one said, " If there is a
crowd I fear there will be a disturbance." He did not know
the working men of the City of Loudon. This meeting is
gratifying to the friends of the cause, whilst it is an honour
to you. There is not an employer in this assembly in whose
estimation the working-classes must not have lisen to-night.
Personally, I thank you. I have simply given you the result
of my experience aud observation. You have kindly list-
ened to me ; you have borne with my weakness, and I thank
you from my heart. Let us stand side by side in this great
conflict; let our motto be excelsior! our hope, there is a
better day dawning ; and our prayer, " God speed the right I"
Good night.

■?■■(

THE DANGEROUS DRINKING CUSTOMS.

1 •

ORATION BY JOHN B. GOUGH.

TUESDAY, AP.HIC. 25th, 18:4.

I- " ■ 'I -■♦ ^^ • .1. -■-

Ladirs and Okntlemkn, — In speaking to the puMic on
the subject of tempt* ran ci', we ft-el onrHelves always bound to
■peak Irot'ly an<l fairly, and fully ind fearles>ly, with regard
to the obstacles in the way nf th movement. I believe, never
in my life have I volunteered an address totbe p ople. I never
speak unless I am invited; I never go to a place to speak
unless the people want to hear me ; and if tht-y come to
hear me they must expect that I shall speak my opinions
fully and fearlessly. I do not ask this audience to take
that'i which I say U[ trust, and beli ve it becvusj I say
it; I am liabb to eiror and njivapprehension : all I ask
you is to put wnat I say into the ( rucible and set it over
the furnace and try it out; and it among tlw white a!<hes
of error you find one sparkling g<'m or" truth t'lat is wo th
Som- tiling,— take that, and let th(? white ashes go to the
"Winds. In engaging in this work we feel that we are en-
tering into a mighty moral conflict and warfare .'ig»iinst
instrumentalities that tend to promote and peri)etuiite the
evil of drunkennes«. If deiith was left alone, the gaunt,
grizzly reformer would swe p Great Britain of (Irunkenness
in twenty-five years if there were not nn»r< made. Who are
they made of? Thank God, not of total abstainiM-sl No man
takes one step from total abstinence just down to drunken-
ness. Every individual who becomes intemperate becomes so
by taking the first step and going down the fattl sliding 8( ale
to the ditch. Among the generation now living there are
intemperate men whom we have no expectation of saving;
we lor k with hope to the coming generation, :ind we feel
that a great part of our business is to build a b irrier l)etwt*en
the unpolluted lip and the intoxicating cup. Therefore
Tve appeal to fathers and mothers, and brothers and
sisters, and guardians and teachers, to help us in the work
of breaking down the instrumentalities that tend to promote
and perpetuate the evil of drunkenness, which in.strninen-
talities are the social drinkinir u-ages of society — useless in
themselves, yet productive of evils such as we shall never
know until that day tor which all other days were made,
when we shall see things as they are. I have been
astonished to see mothers, that lovii their children,
giving them that which, not rnustj but vkhj, produce in
them results fearful to contemplate. A young man once
said to me, "I almost hate my mother, when I remember
how in that accursed dining-room she tapped me on the

hoad, and said, 'Only half a glass, my dear,' when T wag
drinking some one's healtli, to see how like u man I < oiild
do it; evi ry particle of alleclion is buinrd right out of
me when I feel that she has sowed see<ls into my system,
the fruit of whieh I am reaping now, and shall reap in
hell." The mother, when shi'givts the ehild drink, l-as no
id a that suili rv.'sults will l-e produced.

When' riding in a railway carriagi; from Liverpool to
Halifax, on the 20th ct Dec-mber, I saw a ladv, a g* ntle-
li-an, and a little chihi — a beautiful boy, a iovv ly eri atnre
to look upon. V>y their appearance they evidently moved
in a genteel circle of society ; but 1 have always noticed
that persons who tarry botth-S with them get faint ai iho
outs', t of the journey. They pulKd out a bottle and a luil-
way glass ; I do not know liow much drink the bottU; held,
but 1 know how miny gl.isses, for I counted, and th(i0
were eiglit The gentli ui.iti drank one, the lady live, and
the child two, TIk- child, howeVLr, would not b.ivr had the
second if it hud not cried for it. The lad.v setiKd herself
comfortably in the cushions, shut he r eyes and opened her
mouth; her under lip dropped a^if fhe had not strcngtn to
hold it up; and though it is not polite to say that a lady
snored, she did snore, and that most palpably. But what of
the child ? lie was positively drunk. J n ten n inutis his tace
was marred a-: if a foul hand had passi d over it; the sj<irit
in the wine liad sent the blood through the temler vessels
into the child's face ; the eyes looked bloodshot, tlui fice
was flushed, and trom being a beautifi.l hild to look upon,
it became a perfect nuisance — so much s> that I was {^lad
t( get out of the carriage. Ihit who will dare to say that
that mother did not love her child? Had he been lying upcn
a sick bed she would wind h( r loving arm-^ aroimd him to
save him from pain and anguish : she would spend days and

nights of waking ago } to shield the child from suffering:
yet she was giving him that whieh might produce in his
system an appetite that would become a master passion, to
gratify which he woidd barter all the jwels that God li.id
given him — ^jewels worth all the kingdoms of the earth ;
for " what will a man give in exchange for his soul ? ' A
lady said to me, not four weeks ago, riding in b.er carriage,
** I v/ish you could get my boy to sign the pledge; he is
between eight and nine years of age, but he is a comphto
little viinebibber. We only allow him half a glass occa-
sionally, but he will watch for the wine, and even -ount
the days to the time when he expects to have some." I

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suppose it would bo outrageous for mo to say that that
motlior wjiK destitute of natural affection ; but there seems
to be a perfect fascination in the drinking usages of society ;
for fathers and mothers do not seem willing to give up a
paltry glass of wine or ale to save their own children.

Remi^mber, drunkenness does not exist altogether among
the lower < rders of society. Some people say, " I adviio
you to go to the Seven Dials, or Tower Hill, and talk to
the people there." In my opinion drunkenness has been a
curse to th(! middle and the upper classes of society as
much — in view of eternity as much — as it has been to tho
lowest. I consider a man as much a drunkard if he lies upon
his bed of down and rolls from it upon his magnificent car-
pet in a sumptuoiis apartment, with mirrors all around
him, showing him his own bestiality, as much a debased,
degraded and imbruted sot, as the man that lies in tho
kennel, his hair soaking with the filth of the gutter ; it is
only tlie ciriumstances by which he is surrounded which
saves him from the position of the other; but the drunk-
ard, in whatever station he may be, who stupefies his intel-
lect, dethronvs his reason, beclouds bis mind, puts an
extinguisher on tho light that God has given him, com-
mits as grievous a sin against God and his own soul, as the
man who wallows in the lowest kennel in your city.

A City Missionary once showed me a c-.dlar in St. Giles's
" There," he said, " I once saw a msin on his death-bed, a
heap of rottem straw, who six years ago hung pictures in tho
Suffolk Gallery, and moved among the btst circles in tho
land. I asked, " What has brought you to this?' and lifting
up his emaciated arms and ftng(.'rs like the claws of an un-
clean bird, he ciicd out, as his thin lips drew tight across his
teeth, and the rattle in the throat told that l\w. cold fingers
of death were feeling for his heart strings, 'the bottle, the
bottle, the accursed bottle brought me to this!'"' And that
is the story of thousands who die. and are remembered no
more.

In Sunderland T was shown a picture painted by a person
who was an intimate acquaintance of Sir Walter Scott, and
8p«'nt weeks at Abbotsfoid lie would paint pictures on tin,
the heads of barrels, plain boards, and send his wife or daugh-
ters out to Sell th'm. They rec( ived Is, G(/., 2« , or 2s. Gd.
for them ; and th' se who have tlu m now, prize them as works
of art. The man died miserably, and his wife and two
dangliters to-day in Sunderland are ten times worse than
common drunkards.

'^mr'

A Ciiy Missioimry once usktcl me if I wfts going to remain
in Lon<ion? I sulci, " I leave ut two o'cloelt." " I am sorry
for that,' lie said, " for there is a young man I hIiouUI like to
gave, and I should he glad if you could see him. lie iv the
eon of a ministtr of Ihe gospel, wrll edu( ated, speaks Ihiently
five languages, — a nohle hearted young man, he has taught
iome of our lirst miuist( rs elocution, and now he is herding
with the lowest of the low, in th« vilest lodging-houses of
the city. When I picked him up he had fallen down ^from
faintnesg arising from wantjof food."

The vicar of a certain parish stood up in Cheltenham and
•aid, " I was asked to go to a union to see a poor wretch who
had b#oken a blood-vessel, and I fo'nul that he was the son
of a ben»;ficed clergyman, whose mother was riding in her
carriage. I sent lur word that I had got her boy, jiind she
■ent a reply, ' We have cast him ofl' for ever.' I obtained
money from her sullicient to pureliase a chair. For three
months he drew the chair about for his bicad, and he kept a
little school at night to eke out his scanty means. But his
appetite overcame him in temptation, he sold his chair and
his books, and staggered out on hia way to Gloucester as
miserable as ever."

Drunkenness is confined to no rank ; it is an evil that
seems to permeate e\ery class, causing misery, wretched-
ness and woe. It is pitiful indeed to witness the results
which it protluces. 1 have a letter in my possession now,
which was handed to me as I came into this hall from a
man who writes to me — and he writes well — saying that he
is a lawyer, reduced to the verge of starvation by drink ; he
hopes to see better days ; hearing last night that there was
hope for him, he has made up his mind ; ho says, " I will
sign the i)ledge, and I believe 1 can keep it ; I will struggle
for it at any rale."

But it is said, " All who drink don't become drunkards."
I know that, but that is no reasonable argument. Would
you say, " Here is a thing that sends thousands to a drunk-
ard' s grave but because it doesn't send everybody I will give
it to my child? Suppose you are going to kill a mad dog,
and I say, " Don't," he is one of God's good creatures, let
him live." " Yes, but he will bite somebody," you say.
" Probably he will, but he" won't bite everybody — let him

go."

A party went from Buffalo to Niagara Falls to spend a
week or two there. Among them was a biautiful child;
her golden hair hung upon her snowy shoulders ; she was

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the life of the company, she pliickod flowers, twined them
into wreaths for her own peeiless brow, and presented bou-
quets to her fi-ienda. There was also there a yonnjr man just

it( d and

com'! tiom college, rather conceited, yet hip:h-spint( a ar
noble — ^just the build of a man who would climb the bare
face of the rock, and rob the eagle of her nest. Those of you
who have; visited Niagara know that after the dashing, foam-
ing wati'rs of the rapids have passed, the river becomes almost
as smooth as polished glass — just 80 or 100 yards before it
takes its leap. It had become quite a fascination for people
to look at that water; and lying down upon their face, on
th«! American side, they could touch it with their fingers —
You have been sometiuK'^ at a railway •station

when an express trail:
if you have stood on
orm

has

the

thundering

on, and

come

very v^rgc of the plat-
you may have felt a di-sire almost irresisiilile
to go aft( r it, and it has required some nerve
to k(!ep you bark — there was fascination and danger in it. —
h' nail stakes, then, were ])laced in the ground, with straps
to fasten to the ancles of the peoi)le who wi>h(d to lie down
and touch the water. Tiie young man laughed at
the precaution. " Pr< cautions," siid hi;, " for timi(l women
and silly men ; I can do without them — ha I haV He looked
into the water ; tlie ladies shrieked ; that only made' him
more given to bravadr ; he laughed at them and looked
again. They shriiked, — "Stand back! stand back! He
turned round and caught up the little child. " My darling,"
he j-^aid, '« 1 will hold you where no chihl was ever yet held"
— and he held her over the rapids. He might have held her
there for an hour ; he was a strong man, and had a firm grip
of the child. But she was afraid, she saw the water beneath
her and grew nervous, she gave a shriek — one twist — and he
dropped her! Over she went, and not a bit of her body or
clothes was ever seen afterwards. Now J say to you, sir, I say
to you madam, if you give your child drink you are holding
him over the rafuds. You may hold him there safe ; but he
may be more nervous than you dream of;you may not have that
control over him that you suppose you have; he may slip
and go over, and in that case your skirts are filled with his
blood.

I know the mother would rather that God would smite
the child with any disease under the sun than that
he should be a drunkard. It is a fearful thing to have
a child burned lo death, but you would rather that than
have him a drunkard. I remember receiving a paper from

75<

the United States, containing an account of tbe burning of
Harper's establishment. Half a column gave an account of
the loss of property, and more than half a column described
a very simple circumstance connect "d w'.Vi the fire. An
emigrant woman had landed at New York with two children
and all lier property. She left them in Morton House, in
Franklin Square, and went to Forty-third Street, to find her
sister. She offered her a temporary home fur herself and bcr
children ; and, glad at heart, the woman hastened for the
children and the property. Passing along she heard a cry of
"Fire I firel" and the bells rang out a stirring peal. She
paid no attention till some one asked, " Where is the fire?"
The reply was, "In Franklin S(iuare." The Morton ilouse
was there; and her children were in that house. There was
only one side of that square to her, and only one house la
that side. An engine rattled through the streets, the people
made way for it, and closed up again like waves of the sea,
and she was shut out. Her cry was, " My children ! my
children ! let mo pass!" "Stand back, stand back !" said the
crowd. "I cannot ; let me pass !" A policeman came up and
asked, " what do you want?" " My children,' she said, " are
in the Morton House." "Every individual," said he, ''is saved;
but all the property is lost. Now, take my hand. ]\Iake way
there! Police!" And he dragged the woman through the
crowd, and brought her before the burniuii' building; there
on a heap of broken furniture, were her two children, with
their hands folded, and one of them called out, " That's
mother!" That mother was a happy woman ; she had lost
every stick of property on the face of the earth, but her
bonny bairns were her own, and were saved. Now, there is
not a mother here who would not rather see her child burn-
ed to death, and its pure sjjirit take its llight into the bosom
of Him who said, "Suffer little children to come unto me,
and forbid them not," than S(;e it grow up in all pride and
manliness, and then become a drunkard; she had rather tike
the little bits of charred bones raked out from the ashes of
the fire, and bury them with hope, than follow her j)oor
drunken son to tlie grave with no hoi)e in his death. Ah! I
tell you, I have found the most comfortless creature on earth
the mother who has buried a drunktm son. One mother said
to me, — s\ie was cighty-tlve years of ago, and a cripple ; the
black veins had risen in bold relief upon her brown hand as
she lifted it up after having told me of the suffering she had
experienced through the drunkenness of a son, "The man,"

. 1

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ghe said, " who ^^ave him his last drink camo in with liis
dead uody." Said she, " You sold my boy drink " " I did
not know he was y jiir son," the man replied. "You did ;
you knew it was Fredriick Faulkner, the only son of his
poor old crippled mother, and you killed him." "This is
pretty hard language to use to me!" " Hard!" said the wo-
man looking up in my face as she told her talc. Hard ! and
I cursed him. God forgive mo for cursing one made in his
image ; hut there was my only son, the child of many pray-
ers, the (Miild who I hoped would be the staA" of my old age,
and the prop of my declining years — there he lay before me
dead ; and how did he die? Drunk ! I have no hope in the
death of a drunkard ; and I cursed the man that made him
8o." Oh I it is pitiful when you cannot give such an one a
word of hope, when she points with her long thin lingers to
the passage, "No drunkard shall inherit eternal life."

Is not drunkenness, then, to be dreaded ? And is it not
worth your while to rise up in your might, with hearts to
feel, and heads to plan, and hands to work, and battle down
the customs of society that are a temptation to your boy.
We don't appeal to the selfish man — to the man who says, "1
don't sec why I should be called to give up my glass of wine
because others make boasts of themselves. 1 can take care
of myself, and other people must tcake care of themselves."
To such persons I have not a word to say. You stand there
the incarnation of a selfish principle, the very impersonation
of pure unadulterated selfishness. "VVe don't want you in the
enterprise, for you would do us no good if we had you. I
heard of an old bai.'ie, in Scotland, who opposed an improve-
ment that was proposed for the benefit of the town. "I can-
not see," he said, "that it is going to benefit us at all." "But,"
it was replied, " posterity will be benefited." " Posterity I"
said he, " posterity ! I ha e yet to learn that posterity ever
did anything for us, and I won't vote for the measure." Now,
wc don't appeal to people like that ; we apjjcal to men and
w 'men with hearts to feel, and I believe we shall not appeal
i'.! vain. Tiiere is a deep-seated sympathy in the minds of
most men for the suflcrings of others, though tln^y may not
be related to them. Last year has been prolific in ,ship-
iVrecks: and when I have been r«, hundred miles from the sea
shore, and hcrird the wind whistling loud, we have sat by the
lire-side and spoke of those who might be exposed to the piti-
less,pelting storm; and in many a household have I heard an
earnest petition put up that God would have mercy on the

■

tempest-tossed mariner. I have asked if they had any
friends at sea. No, not a friend, or a relative, or acquaint-'
ance ; but they felt for those who had, and it was good to
bow down before God, and remember those who were not
akin to them, bearing them upon the wings of faith to God,
beseeching that lie would protect them. I remember, when
reading of the wrecks that were strewed upon the ohoreg
of Tyncmouth, my heart leaped within me as I read of the
noble pilots putting off in the life-boat to save passengers
and crew ; I felt as if I could have gripped them by the hand
— noble, true hearted sailors as they were. I rejoiced, too,
as much as any one, when I heard that New York had ten-
dered the freedom of the city to Captain Creighton, of the
Three JJells, for lying by the San Fransisco^ night and day,
when he believed the vessel would soon sink if something
was not done to save her ; and it seemed as if I could walk
till my feet ached to shake the noble hearted captain by the
hand and thank him for what he did for suffering humanity.
I was in the City of New York, when the question was so
often asked, " Any news of the Atlantic ?" and the answer
day after day was, " No.'' She had been due ten, fifteen,
eighteen days. " Any news ?" " No." Telegraphic dis-
patches came from all quarters, " Any news of the Atlantic .*"
and the word thrilled back again, sinking down deep into
the hearts of those who had friends on board — " No 1"
Twenty days, twentj'-one days, twenty-two days passed,
and people began to be excited. Guns booming told that a
ship was coming up the narrows ; people went out upon
the battery, on the Castle Gardens, on the tops of the houses^
to see and hear. It was an Engligh ship, the union jack
was flying ; they watched her till she came across to Jersey
city to her moorings, and their hearts sank within them.
They sent hastily across — "Any news of the Atlantic f
" Hasn't the yl^^an^e arrived ?" "No." She sailed tittecn
days before we did, and we have heard nothing of her.' And
then people said, " She is gone after the President^ Twenty-
five, twenty-six, twenty-seven days passed, and those who
had friends on board began to make up their mourning:
Twenty-nine, thirty days passed, and the captiun's wife
was so ill that the doctor said she must die if her sua-
penso was not removed. Men began to shake their heads,
and to whisper to one another, "A sad thing about
the Atlantic^^ isn't it ?" "Yes indeed, it is." One
bright beautiful morning guns were heard, and -a ship was

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seen coming up the narrows ; a crowd was again collected,
such as scarcely ever turned out at any time since the city
was founded. They looked through their spy glasses, and
saw a British ship with the union jack flying. How men'3
hearts beat as they watched the ship until she came to her
moorings. The last hope seemed dying out, till at last the
ship was seen coming up the river. Every eye was fixed
upon her, people wiped away the dimness that came over
them that ihey might see more distinctly. The noble ship
steamed up the river, and making a circuit, came right up to
ttie wharf where the people were assembled like clusters of
bees ; then they hoisted Hugs from trucks to the main chains ;
an officer jumped upon the paddle-box, and put the trumpet
to his lips, and called out, " The Atlantic is safe ; She has
put into Cork for repairs." How the people shouted! Ah I
it was a shout from a hundred thousand throats. Men shook
hands who never .saw one another before ; men dashed
away tears from ckeeks tliat had been unused to such mois-
ture ; bands of music paraded through the streets ; transpa-
rencies were put in front of the hotels, " The Atlantic is safe !
The telegraphic wires worked all night — thrill! thrill!
thrill! " The J^Z</?i</c is safe." Thousands upon thousands
rejoiced, but not one in a hundred thousand had an acquaint-
ance on board that vessel.

Now we ask you to give up that which may be to you a
gratification for the good of others. That is the nobility of
our enterprise ; itreipiires benevolence, and true benevolence
always costs something But some say, " Will nothing but
total abstirence do ?" To use a Yankee expression, I guess
not. "What else would you have? Shall it be occasional
abstinence? That is what every drunkard is obliged to
come to; he must come to that sometimes to save his life j
and, as the prison surgeons say, he is force:! to adopt it when
he gt ts into jail. It must be occasional or total. " Oh," say
some, " use it moderately." What is moderately ? You cannot
measure it ; you cannot define it by qiuintity or quality. What
is moderation to one man is death to ar.other You cannot
measure moderation for any one else butyoiiis! If ; and every
man who becomes a drunkard bevo ru 3 so iu striving
to measure moderation for hinv^:elf and g 'I'l;:' iejeud the
bounds when he was not aware of .'t. Sf ;ue moderate
drinkers would drihk me raving mad in forlv-eight hourg;
some would drink me dead in a month. ■ojr.e men are
"mi^ihty to drink wine and men of strength to mingle strong

drink," and I find the Bible docs not pronounce a blessing
on such. The words, I believe, are, "Woe unto them that
are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to mingle
strong drink." A noble hearted total abstainer, a wealthy
man, once said to me, "Mr. Gough, there are some circura-
etances of my life that I should like to forget. I was what
is called a bottle and a half or a two-bottle man. I have
taken more than two bottles at a time, and was never
drunk in my life. But when I remember the young mCn
who started in business with me — how 1 used to drink them
drunk and glory in it — the vision will sometimes comeupou
me of these young men as I have seen tlicm — young men not
as stolid as I am in their temperament, upon whose brain the
influence of drink was fearful. I trained myself to it, and I
thought, forsooth, that I could train others. I said to the
young men, ' I see that at table you get excited, that your
faces get fbishcd — you take too miich wine, and that's not
gentlemanly. Don't drink your pint of wine at once ; begin
with three glasses or four, and don't take any till you have
eaten your fish ; don't tak<' it too fast or too slow ; don't
mix it, and abovi' everything avoid ale or beer; and so by
degrees you will be able to drink your bottle and a half.
But not one in ten could train himself; while I did it,
others fell into drunkenness, and I feel as if I wjis in some
degree responsible for it."

Some sjiy, however, " You will certainly let us have a
little {IS a medicine." Yes, certainly we will ; we don't wage

war against it as a medicine that is, when men really

take it as medicine. I was once at a dinner party when
a geiitleman at table, holdiag a glass in his hand, said to a
lady present, " I assuv(i your ladyship, I am personally an
abstainer, and I am opposed," 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
see how much medicine he took, and before the meat waa
brought on — he was not trying to train himself I rather
suspect — he drank three glasses of sherry. I did not wonder
then that people lay In their medicine a pipe at a time,
or by so many dozen bottles. 1 uelleve n great deal of this
medicine taking is rank, sheer liypocrisy ; it may not be so
in your case, nor in yours, nor in yoiirs, bill I believe it
is in the majority of cases. A physician once told me that
some men, whose consciences told them they ought not to
sustain the drinking customs of society, go to the doctor

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and say, " I feel a little torpidity in my system ; I think
my digestive org:ins are not exactly ri^lit, and t thought I
would ask if a glass or two of wine would not, perhaps,
promote digestion?" "Well, I don't know but you might
take a little, «:arefully." « Thank you," and away he goes.
" I take my wine by the prescrintion of my medical man !"
Some almost force the doctor to say that they might take
it. If the medical men, however, were all like a 'jihysician
in Birmingham, there would be less taking it as a medicine.
A lady afllicted with spasm had intoxicating liquor given
to her ; but this physician prescribed something else. —
'' Doctor," she said, " why have you changed my medicine?"
" I never," he replied, " prescribe intoxicating liquor to
a sick person if I can help it, for I have known fearful
cases of an {ij)petite for it being formed in a weak state of
health ; and if I do prescribe stimulants, I make them so
nauseous that my patients don't like them, and they don't
come to me again for the tonic." I don't want to run a tilt
against the physicians ; but when I find that two thou-
sand physicians — among them Sir Benjamin Brodie, Sir
James Clark, and others — have put their names to {heir
testimonial ; that any individual may at once or by degrees
break off the use of intoxicating li(|Uors as a beverage with
no detriment to his health, and that perfect health is com-
patible with entire abstinence from stimulating drink, as
a beverage. I am surprised to find so many persons taking
them "by the prescription of their medical man."

But there are one or two objections to our mode of pro-
cedure, about which I should like to say a word. A
minister of the gospel once said to me, " Mr. Gough, I think
this is an unscriptural movement of yours." "Why so,
Sir?" " Because I do not find any direct command in the
Bible to form associations for the promotion of any parti-
cular virtue — and temperance is a virtue— or the suppres-
sion of any particular vice." " Well, sir," I said, "did you
not address a meeting that was called by the Early-Closing
Association ?" " Yes." " And did you not advocate the
forming of such associations on moral grounds?" " Ya,'S "
" Then, according to your doctrine, you advocated an nn-
Bcriptural measure. If you take that ground against the tem-
perance enterprise, you must take it against ragged schools,
and apprentices' libraries, and it would sweep away, as with
the (x'som of destruction, nine-tenths of the benevolent
enterprises that are now the glory of Great Britain." Doctor

Candlish says it is a species of infidelity creeping into th«
church, that demands a "thus saith the Lord," before a man
will go out of the way to help a brother. The Rev.W. Ueid
said, " If by lifting up a straw I injure my brother, I am as
much bound to desist as if I road in the Decalogue, ''Thou
Bhalt not lift a straw."

" Yes, but you are putting temperance in the place of tho
gospel." I don't think so. The gospel is " tlie power of
God unto salvation, to every man that believeth." The total
abstinence pledge and principh; will do a certain work, and
no more. If a drunkard adopts it he cannot be a drunkatd.
If your boy never uses intoxicating llcjuor he cannot bo in»-
temperate. Begging your pardon, he may be a thief,
a liar, a Sabbath breaker, he may be the boldest
brazen-faced blasphemer that ever lived; but he cannot be ft
drunkard. There is no virtue in the total abstinence pledge
or principle to make a man anything else but a reformed
drunkard, a sober man — it will do that. You say the grace
of God alone can clfect it. Here is an infidel, and there la
no virtue in total abstinence to make him a Cliristian ; but
I would rather have a sober infidel than a drunken professor
of religion, because I love the church better than temperanco
associations, and I believe these associations arc promotivo
of the very highest interests of tho church. Suppose I go
into the ditch and bring out a drunkard. I strip him of the
grave-clothes of inebriation, I lead him along and whisper
encouraging words in his ear, bringing him as far as I can
to the very threshold of your church. Haven't I done a
good work by mere human agency as Jar as it goes ? Wouldn't
you rather have him there sober tlum (hunk? Drunkenness is a
physical evil, and it may be removed by human agency. Tho
man's sin may not be removed, but he can no longer be a
drunkard. Suppose you have a friend on a death bed — (I
now speak to Christian professors) — in a raging fever, and
you feel no hope of salvation for him. He bites his lips,
clenches his fist and mutters unintelligible jargon. You
knew it is the grace of God only that can renew him in tho
spirit of his mind. Bring in your minister ; let him point to
the sacrifice once made for sin. The man knows nothing
about it ; he is mad, he doesn't know the wife that bendi
tearfully over him. What will you do? You send for tho
physician : by cool appliances he reduces the fever, and by
mere human agency l»rings the patient to a sane state of
mind. Now, come ])lessed minister, whisper in his ear

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ho
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Jesus camc! into the world to
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save sinners
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you may

the instninunt of his salvation when without that agency
you could not have hocn. Reading my Bible, I have come
to the conclusion, that when human agency can do no more
then God docs the work. At the tonibof Lazarus, Christ said
" Take away the stone." He might have removed it, but ho
saw fit to use human instrumentality. They rolled away tho
stone, but they could do no more ; they stood by while. Jesus
spoke : incipient i)urtrefaction quivered and trembled into
life and Lazarus came forth. It was thi; power of God that
raised the dead ; but human agency removed the stone. And
I Ixilleve the total abstinence enterprise has been instrument-
al in removing many and many a rock from the dark tomb
where the drunkard has lain. So that I feel I can ask God
to sanctify the enterprise to a higher end than m(uely lift-
ing a man from the ditch. I thank God tluit some who were
in the ditch have been redeemed.

People talk sometimes of ' temperance and religion." I
know no such distinction in my own case ; my temperance
is part of my religion I cannot be a Christian and a moder-
ate drinker any more" than I can be a thii f and a Christian.
I am not judging you. Don't go away and say, I said that a
man cannot be a Christian unless he is a teetotaller, I am
only judging myself, and I say that with my view of the
horrible evil of drunkenness, with my view of the way in
which I came to it, witli my view of the influence every man
exerts, with my view of the drinking customs of society, if I
countenance those customs I am violaling my allegiance to
heaven. We are not presuming to set temperance in tho
place of the gospel ; but we believe these associations spring
from the gospel, like every other benevolent association.

Some have said that they tend to infidelity. I defy you to
bring me one man who was ever made an infidel by becom-
ing a teetotaller. He may have been an infidel before he
signed the pledge. You say we must not receive such an
one. Now, though I am a member of what is called in New
England, the Orthodox Congregational Church, shall I
A^k a man "Do you belong to my persuasion?'' before
I will stoop with him and put shoulder to shoulder to
help a man out of the ditch ?" No ; we will work to-
gf ther to do good if we are wide as the poles asunder in
politics and in religious opinions. We have no right to

pusli men off from tlic platform because they do not believo
as we believe. J tell you one thing ; if professing Christians
and ministers of the gospel had taken the position they
ought to have taken upon the temperance question, I be-
lieve there would be fewer infidels among the teetotallers.
I know some of our reformed drunkards have said hard
things; but remember who they were. The iron entered
into their souls; they were miserable, poor, wretched, de-
based and degraded. Some kind fri' ud whispered in their
ear of hope ; they wiped the dull lilm from their eyes and
saw there was hope, and then were brought into the houso
of CJod. 1 am not now making a supposition only, but de-
tailing facts which have more than once occurred. The
man knows he is better than he was — better to himself, to
his family, and to society. He sits in God's house for the
first time for fifteen years : he is affected by the singing
and by the, devotional exercises; and then the minister
stands up and denounces the movement that has brought
him from the ditch. What is his opinion of that religion
and that preaching ? " Here I was," lie says, " in misery
and wretchedness, a cursing and blaspheming wretch ; I
want to be better, I go to the Louse of God, where I have
not been since 1 was a child, and I hear the minister say it
is all infidelity — it is putting tomperance in the place of
religion — and denouncing the movement that has so bene-
fitted me." I feel as if there was lault on both sides. Let
us throw back, however, the cause of infidelity where it
belongs. What if temperance advocates have said hard
things ? Will you attack the Christian religion, because of
its professors ? I jead in a Carlisle paper that the Rev.
Mr. So-and-so, after divine service went to a public-house
and became so intoxicated that the ostler wished to drive
him home, but he refused, and started full speed by him-
self; and he was afterwards found in the road dead, with
his face horribly bruised and mutilated, Will you say,
" Is that the religion you boast of?" No, the fault of a
minister of the gospel no more mars the glorious structure
of Christianity than the fall of a workman from the Crystal
Palace will mar the beauty of the building. Do not, then,
denounce the movement for the fault of its advocates.
I believe the infidelity and indifference to religion in this
country, as well as, in a great measure, in the United
States, are engendered and supported by the inconsistencies
of professing Christians mora than by all the teetotalism

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that ever has been promulgated. A young man once cams
to me, and wild, "John, Mr. Mason lias been to me to tr'.k
about religion ; and what do you suppose I told him ? I
said, < Do you own the American Hotel ?' < Yes, I do.'
« You get the rent of it?' ' Yes I do.' ' Now,' said I, ' Mr.
Mason, there's drunkenness in that hotel from Saturday
night till Sunday morning, drinking and gambling, and
scenes that are enough to make a man shudder. Now you
give up your hotel, and then come and talk to me about
religion, and 1 Mill hear you." Now that was perfectly
natural.

Hiding from Edinburgh to Dumferline, in company with
a Frenchman — not a religious man, nor a total abstainer—
I heard him conversing with a City Missionary. IIo was
reviling the religion of his own country; and the City
Missionary said, <•' You must rejoice to come to a religious
land now. " Yes sair,' said the Frenchman, « I suppose
you vill call Scotland very releegious ; I find, sair, dat dere
is a great deal of relecgion, but very leetle Christianity!
I vill explain vot I mean. You have, in Scotland, society
for good tings— Sabbat School, ragged school — very good.
Now, suir, I went to a meeting of de Society for de better
Obsairvance of de Sabbat, and a gentleman dere made veil
grand big speech : 'GenWcman,' he said, 'look at France,
dat is my country, 'France is accursed of God: he has
trodden her in de wine pres3 of his fury tor years, because
Bhc has trodden under foot do Sabbat day.' He say, dat de
people of Paris spend de Sunday at Versailles, in de teatre,
in de ball room, in de railway, and in all kinds of amuse-
ment. Now, sair, I agree dat ; but what business have dat
man to say God has cursed France beause de people go for
amusement on the Sabbat day, when dat very man keeps
twelve men in his distillery all day Sunday ? You may call
dat man, sair, very releegious, but I call him von big great
hypocrite ! To go into de iields is to go for pleasure, but to
take de beautiful grain God has given us, and to make hell-
fire of it, is more worse dan pleasure. Dis man makes
viskey of the grain. Now, I drink my vine, but I do tink
that viskey is de most abomination ting dat ever vos made."

In a certain city in Great Britain, when making with a
friend a tour of observation, on Saturday night, wo
posted ourselves opposite a whiskey-shop, or gin-shop, and
stayed there about three-quarters of an hour. I saw
women go in with children in their arms, looking as if

thoy had been Lorn to suffer, and gasp, and die, peer pallid,
rheum-cyed wretches, drinking their wliiskey. I saw little
bundles of rags standing tiptoe to put the money on the
counter, and receiving the whiskey in exchange. One little
girl had but one garment on her, and that was clinging to
her limbs with wet ; she came with a blacking bottle, got it
filled, and took it away. I saw everything from a blacking
bottle to a tin pail brought there for whiskey. One man, in
rags, had a bottle of it, and then found money enough for a
glass; half of this he drank himself, and the rest he gave to
a boy about eight years of age. Said I, " What are they
giving the children besides?" " Oh," said my friend, " they
give them little bits of 'sweety,' or candy, to encourage them
to come to their shop." Looking in another direction, I saw
the proprietor ; there he was with his coat off, dealing it
out, with three others, as busy as they could be. '• That
man," paid the gentleman who was with mc, "is a trustee
and office-bearer in one of the prominent churches in our
city."

Now, ladies and gentlemen that is a thing I cannot un-
derstand ; you may impute it to my ignorance, if you pleese,
but I cannot understand it ; I say more, I don't want to
understand it ; and I say more, I pray God I never may un-
derstand it.

I was once walking in the city of Norfolk, in Virginia,
and heard an auctioneer .selling a female slave. " 237i
dollars," he said ; "now then give us 240 — going, gentlemen,
going." One fellow came and lifted up the lip ; another
handled her as you would not handle a horse. 1 could not
help saying aloud, "That is the most damnable sight I ever
flaw in a Christian place !" The gentleman with whom I
was kept his hand upon my mouth, and said, "You must
not say so." Said I " I will say so." Now, the scene I wit-
nessed in Great Britain, and the scene I witnessed in Norfolk,
Virginia, are, in my opinion, parallel scenes in enormity ;
and I confess to you, these are things I cannot understand.

I have been grieved at what I have seen in this country.
I remember when certain petitions were signed by religious
people — and it was right to sign them. I would keep the
Sabbath day holy. I never travel on the Sabbiith, and I
never will — not to save the biggest audience that ever came
together from disappointment. I never go out to dinner or
tea on the Sabbath, and never receive calls on that day;
therefore I shall not be misunderstood. There were petitions

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presented against the opening of tlie Crystal Palace on the
Sabbath day. What is the Crystal Palace ? Those who
have seen it say it can hardly enter into the mind of man to
conceive its beauty; art, science, nature, all combined—
sparklini^ fountains, beautiful walks, wondrous things from
all parts of the world, nothing to injure, and everything to
instruct and delight. Yet that must be shut, and I do
not say that that is not right. But, I have been told, in some
towns in England, ''We have tried to get up a meeting to
petition parliament to shut the grog-shops on a Sundav, but
we have failed for want of countenance from professing
Christians." That, I say, in my opinion, is an inconsistency.
You may say, " You come from another country to talk about
our customs." I am an Englishman ; I was born in England,
and I claim this as my own land. My father fought for his
country twenty-one years in the Peninsular war, at Corunna,
Talavcra, at Salamanca, and BadajoS; and had a medal on
his breast ; and if I am not an Englishman I don't know who
is. I have a right, then, to battle, in company with others,
against every instrumentality that is cursing Great Britain
— the land of my fathers, and the place of my nativity.

Will you help us in this enterprise? You may to-night
rise up in your might and trample under foot in your own
circle — and your circle is but the centre of another — the
drinking customs of society ; and then the blessing of those
who are ready to perish may rest upon you ; and you will
rejoice that you have been instrumental in doing good.

THE EVIL OF DRUNKENNESS.

AN ORATION BY JOHN B. GOUGH,

EXETER HALL, WEDNESDAY, ArRIL, 2Gm, 1854.

Ladies and Gentlemen, — I saw, by the advertisement
for this evening, that the subject would be specially
treated in accordance with the day upon which the
address was to be delivered, — a day of fasting, hurailiati: i
and prayer. During the day I have been trying a little
(rather out of my way) to arrange some thoughts and ideas ;
but I found that I must give it up. I never could arrange
an address before I came upon the platform — thoughts and
ideas and views of the subject flashing then upon the mind.
I have besn in the habit, in the United States, of speaking
on Sabbath evenings on the subject of temperance. I have
delivered 202 addresses in the city of Boston, and 147 of
them were on the Sabbath evening, and we have always con-
sidered our Sabbath evening temperance meetings the best.
Those who think they may come to a temperance meeting,
and smile and be amused, are mistaken ; the horrible evil of
drunkenness is enough to make us start back and shudder.
To-night I wish to speak of this evil as a man and as a Chris-
tian man, and if possible, to rouse the red-hot indignation of
those who hear me against the cause that produces this fear-
ful effect. It was once said in the United States Senate,
" War, famine, and pestilence are the three greatest evils
that can come upon a nation ;" those in the north sent back
the cry, and it gathered strength as it went on, until the
mountains took it up and rolled it on tov/ards the south,
when it burst like thunder in their ears, " No ! war, slavery
and drunkenness are the three greatest evils that can come
upon a nation-" God can send famine and pestilence when
he pleases, without man's agency ; he never sent drunken-
ness. Drunkenness is under man's control, and man is re-
sponsible for the whole of it. We consider that those evila
which man creates are more terrible to contemplate than
those which God, in his inscrutable wisdom, sees fit to send
upon his children.

This country is now engaged in war, and I am not going to
speak to the merits, or demerits, or causes of that war. —
That war is an evil, you know, and the Government know it.

* i'i

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or they would not have proposed a day of fasting and humil-
iation ; but if the war with Kussia continues year after year,
and destroys forty-thousand lives ereiy year, and costs the
country a hundred million pounds sterling per year, it would
not be half so bad, politically, morally, socially and religi-
ously, as the horrible evil of drunkenness, which is more ter-
rible than war, famine and pestilence together, unless we are
brought face to face with it. A person once said to me, " I
hq,ve sold liquor for ten yoars, and I have not seen half that
you talk about." " No Sir," said I, " because you do not want
to see it; you do not go where it is.*' If I were to take a
gun, and fire it right across the river into the town opposite,
I might fire my (;un, enjoy the flash, and hear the report,—
it would be all tjxcitement to me. Some one comes running
across the river, and cries, " Stop ! dc-a't fire that gun any
morel" " Why should I not fire the gun if I please?" " I
have come over from the other side, and there are dead men
in the streets, women mourning over the bodies of thei'
husbands, children with their hands dabbled in blood seek-
ing for a father." " But Sir, I have fired eight or ten
times, and I iave not seen all you talk about." '' No Sir,
because you did not go where the shot struck." Let people
go where the shot strikes ; if they will not do that, we will
come before them, and, God helping us, "^e will tear asunder
the curtain that conceals from view the secrets of the
charnel-house, and make them know the horrible facts that
exist right among them. If the people of the City of
London believed half that has been published in reference
to the evil of drunkenness, it would stir the blood in the
heart and send it tingling to the tips of the fingers, with
the purest desire to do battle in the cause that has pro-
duced such efi"ects. But they do hot believe it. A gentle-
man said to me not long ago in this country — "A great
fault I find with you is this, you so strangely exaggerate
statements ; you go before the people and make statements
that facts do not bear out." A person once said to me—
"I heard a gentleman say in the Whittington Club Room,
that forty or fifty thousand people died every year from
drunkenness ; why it is the most absurd thing in tho
world." '•"Well," said 1, "Idont know about that ;" and
I happened to have in my possession a small tract, that was
put into my hand at Norwich, containing extracts from
judges and coroners respecting this evil of drunkenness.
" Now Sir," I said, " how many people do you suppose die

in the City of London of drunkenness every year 1" " Oh 1"
said he " London is a large city — two millions of inhabit-
ants ; I suppose about a hundred or two die of drunkenness."
I took out my tract and read a statement from the coroner
of Middlesex, to the effect that from 10,000 to 12,000 die
in London every year from excessive drinking, and that the
coroner held inquests on from 1,200 to 1,500 bodies of
men and women every year, who died from drink. " Well,'*
said he, " I could not have believed it !" Then let man in-
Testlgate.

But men investigate {\nd CiDme to different conclusions,
Mr. Cbandlcr, editor of the United States Gazette in Phila-
delphia, and afterwards a member of Congress, is a man not
much given to fanaticism. What a word that fanaticism
is ? How much alarmed some people are at it ! The softer
a man's head is, the deeper impression will that word make
on his mind. You take a complete addle-pate, that has got
nothing in :he world but his gentility to recommend him,
and whisper in his ear, " That is all fanaticism." He will
become as rigid as possible at once ; you cr,nnot move him
at all. I tell my temperance friends sometimes, that a
rery good method of getting rid of these gentlemen is this «
When they use such terms as humbug and fanaticism, pin
them right down to the point, and make them tell you
what humbug and fanaticism are. A great many of them
will run off to the dictionary, and look to the hum and the
p A K to find it out. A man once said, in reference to the
Maine Liquor Law, "It is all pure, clear, sheer, unadul-
terated fanaticism." "What do you mean," said I, "by
fanaticism ?" Mean ? I mean fanaticism, that's what I
mean." " Yes, Sir, but what is fanaticism ?" " Why, fan-
aticism is when you — well, you know what fanaticism i8
as well as I do ; it's no use talking to me." And that is all
he would tell me. Now, Mr. Chandler, after investigating
this, writes thus — " Close every grog-shop in the country,
and all the poverty may be supported by the present
existing private charities, and in this republic there need
not be an almshouse." I believe this of the United States,
and I believe it of Great Britain, in this day ot her pros-
perity. You are taxed in this country, 5s SJd. sterling,
every man, woman and child, to support an army of paupers ;
shut up your beer-houses and spirit-shops, and you would
not be taxed 5Jd a year. It is sometimes said that there
are other causes of pauperism, such as scarcity of grain and

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bad harvests. I know there is a scnrcity of grain sometimes ;
but where is that scarcity ? I will tell you where it is not.
There is no scarcity at the brewers and distillers ! If men
are dying of starvation their storehouses are full of grain.
Father Matthew told me, that at the time when the half-
starved husband had not strength enough to lift the dead
body of his wife, and lay her in the grave — when the little
child was found with its thin lips drawn tight across its
teeth in the agony of death, clutching sea-weed and suck-
ing it for nourishment, the distilleries had in them an un-
precedented quantity of grain, and that in the year after
the famine in Ireland 47,000,000 bushels of grain were de-
stroyed to make intoxicating liquor in great Britain —
enough to have fed every man, woman and child, who died
of stai ration.

But some say that unremunerative labor is the cause of
pauperism. Now, I have been very careful since I have
been in this country, in endeavoring to ascertain the rate
of wages ; and I tell you London mechanics and artizans,
that, if you have steady employment here, you had better
not go to America in the hope of bettering your conilitlon,
unless you go into the Far West. The rate of wages of
mechanics and laborers hero, as far as lean ascertain, except
agricultural laborers in some districts, is fully equal to that
in the New England States. Here some of your men get
30s., 355., 385., and 40s. a week. I remember the time Avhen
I was considered a good workman — a bookbinder. I could
do the fine work of my business about as well as any other
man ; I could do the gilding, the lettering, and all the fine
work, and I would have bound myself any time to any man
who would have agreed to pay me, as long as I worked for
him, seven dollars and a half, or about thirty shillings a week.
Now, I know there are bookbinders in this city getting more
than that. Is it, then, unremunerative labor that is the
cause of pauperism ? I am a working man ; my sympathies
are with the working men ; T get my living by the sweat of
my brow as you know very well ; and I would not say a word
against raising the wages of the laboring man to the highest
possible j)oint of consistency. 1 am a working man myself,find
I do not know but that, by-and-by, if I should break down in
this business ot speaking, T should have to go to the bench
again. Allow mc here a little episode. Soon after I signed
the pledge I Mas asked to go and speak on the the subject of
tempeiance in one or two towns at the outskirts of a large

city in wliich I lived, I went to the person I work( d for,
and said, — " Will you let me go out for one or two
weeks to speak on this subject ; they want me to speak.
I do not care much about going ; still, I am willing
to go if you will take me back again ; but I do not want to
give up a good situation," We were not then much pressed
in the business. I had been binding some Bibles ; there
were fifty copies, all turned up, and the edges cut ready for
gilding; and my employer said, ''Just throw your apron
over these, so that the edges don't get dirty, and be Fure to
come back again and finish them." I took off my apron,
threw it over the books, tucked it all round the edges to
prevent the dust from getting in, left the Bibles standing
there, and I have never seen them since. Being a work-
ing man, then, I shall not be misunderstood on the subject
of wages ; but, I tell you, you may raise the wages of the
working naan as high as you can get them, but, if he con-
tinues his drinking habits he is none the better for it. I
have spoken with gentlemen who employed two or three
thousand men, and they have said to me, " Last year (1853)
we paid higher wages than we ever did before, and among
the families of our men who uiink there has been more
poverty, more misery, more black eyes among the women,
more bruised limbs, more filth and degradation, than ever
we knew before. Men who used to spend blue Monday
in the public-house now spend blue Tuesday and blue
Wednesday ; some of them come to work on Thursday
morning, and boast as they stagger in, stupefied by the in-
fluence of a debauch, that they can make thirty shillings
now before Saturday night." Thus the beer and gin-shopg
have had a thriving business, while the families of the
intemperate have been in a worse position than ever,
because of the maddening influence of drink upon those
who should love, cherish, and protect them. The governor
of York Castle said to me, "Mr, Gough, if every body
would adopt your principle we should have very little, if
anything, to do here," The provost of Dundee gave me, in
his own hand-writing, this statement : " As chief magis-
trate of this large manufacturing town, I unhesitatingly
affirm, that nine-tenths of the poverty and crime is caused
directly by the use of intoxicating liquors as a beverage."

Look at the sufferings of those connected with the drunk-
ard. Your sympathies have been appealed to to-day for
the wives and children of those who liave gone to fight

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their country's battles; and I glory in it, and I wish they
could raise two millions to support thooe wives and chil-
dren. I have told you I am a working man ; I am, also, a
soldier's son ; and my sympathies are with soldiers' wives.
I remember, when my father was away on the Peninsular,
my mother, who used to work lace very nicely (and she
grew very nearly blind by it), went one day from Sand-
gate to Dover, eight and a half miles, to sell it. I went
out to play, having the whole day to myself till she came
baclc. I was a famous reader whe» I was a little bit of a
thing, and I never remember the time when I learned to
read, and I can't remember when I could not read with the
book the wrong side up. As I was playing, a boy came up
to me and said, "Johnny Gough, Mr. Purday wants you in
the library." Well, I ran into the library, and I remember
being taken into a little room, and a girl dipped her hands
in wat€r and rubbed my face, and brushed my hair back, to
make me look decent, and then took me into the reading-
rooms, where there was a venerable looking gentleman,
whom I dist'iotly remember they called my ''lord." Mr.
Purday said, " This is the boy I was speaking of;" and he
then put a newspaper into my hands, and asked me to read a
certain column to him, which I did. He ^ave me a five-
shilling piece ; another gentleman gave me sixpence, and
the proprietor of the library gave me two pennies. Oh ! how
rich I was ! I went out to play with the boys ; I put my
hands in my pockets now and then, and jingled my money,
and then went on playing again. After a while a boy came
to me and said, " Johnny, your mother has got home." I
ran into the house, and there sat my poor mother upon a
stool, faint and weary, with her basket of lace at her side.
Her face was buried in her hands ; I heard her sob, and I
never could bear to hear my mother cry. " Mother, mother,"
said I, " what is the matter ?" " My poor child," she said,
"I have not sold a farthing's- worth to-day, and what we
shall dc. God only knows !" Said I, " Mother, just look at
that!" and she did look at it; and she said, "Why, John,
where did you get that?" "Ihave been into the library;
one gentlemen gave me that, another gave me that, and Mr.
Purday gave me these two pennies." My mother went upon
her knees, clasped me round the neck, lifted up her eyes,
thanked God, and then gave me a half-penny all to myself!
And what do you suppose I did with it? 1 went out and
changed it into two farthings, and I never enjoyed money

my
oney,
came

" I

as much as that all the days of my life. Now, you have
been raising money to-day for the wives and children ol
soldiers. Here are wives and children in this city more
pitiably placed than the destitute wives and children of
your soldiers — the wives of drunken husbands. Gieat
heaven ! think of it for a moment. The wife of a drunkard j
linked for life to a man, all of whose mad passions drink
has set on fire, and he has become a perfect fiend. Yet she
is linked to him for life ! Then, the children of the drunk-
ard I if there was no evil arising from intemperance but that
which rests like a cloud of curses upon little children, it
would be enough to rouse our indignation against it.

But it is said, "You must educate, and so make people
sober ; while wo go to work with our Ragged Schools and
Associations for bettering the condition of these children."
Shall we not go right to the beginning, and strike a blow
at the root of the evil ? What is the cause of the want of
education among very many of ihe lower orders of society
in this city? I unhesitatingly pronounce that nine-tenths
of it is caused by the drink. There is no power on earth
that will make a man a fiend like the power of drink.
A physician told me that he was employed in visiting some
poor families. In one family he said there was a girl
about fifteen years of age — an intelligent little creature —
who was ill of a consumption. Ke knew the father and
mother were drinkers, but he did not dream that they
would neglect that suffering child. He had come home
very late one night and had not visited the child, and he
was 80 restless all night about her, that early next morning,
a bitter cold morning, he went to her house. He there found
the little creature silting by an empty firo-place, her arms
tightly folded round her, as if to keep her little frame from
falling to piecew, racked as it was by the cough from which
she Bufftred. " Elizabeth, my child," said the physician,
i« why are you not in bed ?" " I have not been to-bed, sir,"
" Have you not been to-bed all night ?" "No, sir." "Where
is your father and mother ?" " Thoy have gone to-bcd, sir."
"Why did they go to bed and leave you up?" "Father
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 child ?" *• Yes, sir." " Have yon had no light 9"
" No, sir." " Have you been sitting all night ia the cold
and dark alone?" "Yes, sir." 1 say, then, there is no-
power on earth that will make a man or a woman A devil

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60 quick as the power of drink. I know a man, a large-
hearted Christian, in New Hampshire, who was a degraded
and debased drunkard. Some ladies saw a little child going
to and fro with a tin pail, and one asked, " What nave
you got in that pail ?" " Wl iskey, ma'am," was the reply.
"And where do you live?" " Down in the hollow." The
lady went to see the child's home, and found it a home of
wretchedness. The father was drunk, but the mother was
fiober. "Is this your child, ma'am?" said the lady. "Yes
ma'am." Docs she go to school any where ?" «' No,"
"Would you not like her to go to the Sunday School?"
" Yes, but she has no clothes." "We will furnish her with
clothes if you will send her." " I could not do that," said
the woman, " because her father would take them for
drink." " Then," said the lauy, " send her to our house
in the morning ; we will give her clothes, and after she has
been to school she shall have them taken off again and go
back in rags." That was agreed to, and the child went to
the school. She was an intelligent child, and became much
attached to her books and her teachers ; she soon learned
to read, and they gave her a Testament. That Testament
was her pride, and she would call it, " My own Testament."
It seemed her joy and her delight. She was always asking
whether little ragged children and drunkard's children
would go to Jesus, and was very much interested in reli-
gious matters. Soon afterwards she lay on her death-bed,
and the father told me — (I shall never forget his look when
he did so) — " One day I went into the room ; we had
put up some boards and curtains to separate her from the
room in which we done the little cooking we had ; I
eat down by my child ; she was constantly holding her
^Testament in her hand ; she fell asleep, and then put it
under her pillow. As 1 sat there it seemed as if the very
^re of hell waF in me, and that I must have some drink. I
3iad stripped the house of everything ; they had furnished
pillows for the chid, and they kept a watch lest I should
(Steal vhem ; I must have drink, and I believe I would have
«old the dead body of that child, if life had left her, for drink ;
afe she dozed away, not knowing the terrible turmoil in the
lieart and system of her father, she took the Testament
from under her pillow, and pressed it with her hands upon
her breast. I then took the Testametit from her, and got a
pint of gin for it, and came back again and sat by the
child. Ah !" said he, " the gin had started the blood in the

buj
in

messt'ngcr.
sold it for
and before
heard mo

sttignant vessels of my stomach ; I felt maudlin and some-
what comfortable with that fearful heat which the drunkard
knows, only to be succeeded by a terrible deadness." Pre-
sently the child awoke, put her hand upon the father's, and
said, "lam g(iiig to die; I am going to Jesus; I read in
my little Testament that ho said, ' Suffer little children to
come unto mc, and forbid them not/ and I have tried to come
to him as well as I know how ; for ho did not come into tho
world to deceive poor little children; but father! oh fatherl
when I get to heaven suppose Jesus should ask mc what
you did with my little Testament, what shall I tell him?"
"It was like a flush of lightning darting through me," said
the father, "and I saw that child going as a swift accusing
What had I done with her Testament? I had
drink! I was broken down in a moment;
that child died she held my hand in hers, and
say, 'God be merciful tome, a sinner.'" That
man is now a noble-hearted Christian ; and the blessing of
those that are ready to perish rests upon him.

Look at the effects of drunkenness upon a man, God
made man in his own image: what mars that irnrge and
stamps it with the counterfeit die of the devil? Drink
does it. Man by nature walks erect, and lifts his forehead
to the stars, and he is crowned lord of creation ; what
breaks his sceptre, tears his crown from his brow, and de-
grades him beneath the level of the beast ? Drink does it.
What sears his heart, and dams up the fountain of pure
and holy affection? It is the drink. What fil's our alms-
houses and our jails? What hangs yon trembling wretch
upon the gallows? It is the drink. And we might almost
call upon the tomb to bring forth — Ye mouldering victims I
wipe the grave-dust crumbling from your brow, stalk forth
in your tattered shrouds and bony whiteness, to testify
against the drink ! Come come from the gallows, you
spirit-maddened man-slayer ; grip your bloody knife, and
stalk forth to testify against it! Crawl from the slimy
oose, ye drowned drunkard, and with suffocation's blue and
livid lips speak out against the drink ! Unroll the record
of the past, and let the recording Angel read out the
murder-indictments written in God's book of remembrance ;
aye, let the past be unfolded, and the shrieks of victims'
wailing be borne down upon the night blast! Snap your
burning chains, ye denizens of the pit, and come up sheeted
in fire, dripping with the flames of hell, and with your trum-

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pet tongues tcstif/ ngtiiust the deep "damnation of the
drink,"

Thank Gcd ! the light dawns upon us in our darkness;
daylight stands tip-toe on the mountain top, and nends
torth the sliarj) outlinu of shadovvs upon our path, that tell
us day is hrt-uking — a day of triumph — a day in which the
bonds shall bo Iook d — a day in which the oppressed shall
go free — a day in which there shall be a jubilee, when every
d.'unkard shall burst his fetters, and the tear bo wiped
from the eye of the last weeping wife, and gently the last
little child be lifted up, to stand where God meant he
should stand. That day is to come : but we are now in the
midst of conflict. Yet in our warfare no blood is shed ;
we mean no harm to any one ; "the weapons of our warfare
are not carnal, but mighty, through God, to the pulling
down •' cf the strong fortresses of drunkenness. We are
engaged in a bloodless, peaceful conflict, and shall continue
to be so to the end. We say as the little drummer did, when
ho was taken prisoner, and led into the camp of the enemy.
They told him to beat thb drum. "Yes," said he, " I will
beat the drum for you, though you ask me to do it in in-
sult;" and he beat a ra'e^Z/g. "Now," said they, "beat an
advance ;" and he did so. "Now, beat a charge ;" and he
beat the charge. " Now, beat us a retreat." " No," said
the drummer, "I never learned to beat a retreat." We have
not such a word as retreat in our vocabulary; it is all on-
ward, upward, victory.

Let me now say a word about the liquor business. I
have been through your streets to day, and I have found
that all classes of your citizens have paid respect to the
day of fasting and humiliation and prayer, except the liquor
sellers. Now, our object is utter annihilation and destruc-
tion of the liquor business ; although we shall not get to
that just yet. People say, " the public are not ripe for it;"
but they are ripe for agitation and discussion. If I say a
word against the business I am ready to give my reasons
for it. You know as well as I do that the liquor business
is not the most respectable on the face of the earth. Sup-
pose now I say to you, " There is a minister of the Gospel ;
he is a very nice man ; he is very largely engaged in a
manufacturing business, or in a mining business, or in iion
works." " Ahl" you say, " indeed 1" "Yes; he has had
property left by his wife, and he is very largely connected
with the business ; but it does not detract from his useful-

ness." " No," you say, " I suppose not." But suppose I
should say that the reverend gentleman is largely engaged
in gin shops, you would say, that is rather inconsistent!" —
Well, 1 know it is; and that is just what we say. It ig
inconsistent for a minister to bo engaged in drawing a
revenue from such a business; and if it is a btisincss in
which a Christian cannot be engnged consistently, what
kind of business is it? If I were simply to give my opinion
on the subject, I should merely say of the liquor business,
that I hate it. I hate it with a perfect hatred ; I love to
hate it ; it does me good to hate it ; I feel that when I hate
it I am doing God service ; I expect to hate it as long as I
live, and I pray God to give me, as ho will if I am so bappy
as to get to heaven, an everlastingly increasing capacity to
hate it. I consider it to be a useless busincs?, an unutter-
ably mean business — vn intolerably wicked business — a soul
destroying, God defying business. If I express my opinions,
I am bound to give my reasons as freely a:5 I give my opin-
ions. Now let me prove to you that it is a useless business.
t London would be better off without a dram-shop than with

one ; you know that the liquor seller, know that, and
sometimes they are honest enough to acknoweldge it. A
liquor-seller in Glasgow said, after I had spoken of +he
traffic more sharply than I shall speak of it to-night, " It ii
all true, sir; and although 1 am engaged in the business, I
wish whiskey was five guineas a gallon, and every smuggler
hung." I maintain that every man who goes into the trade,
renders himself utterly useless to the community. The
man who manufactures good boots takes a piece of leather,
puts work and experience into it, and increases its value.
You pay him for the labour and experience ; he pays you,
and you are both benefitted. The same with the taHor;
he takes a piece of cloth and makes a coat of it, and so
improves the article. The manufacturer takes a bale of
cotton, runs it through the pricking machines, and through
all the smoothing processes, till it comes out a piece of cloth.
So with all trades ; the raw material is always incre{is(d in
value as the man works on it. But uith the liquor-seller
the raw material is worth more than the manufactured
article; the longer he works on it the worse he makes it.
I consider every liquor seller a pauper. What is a pauper?
He is one who receives his support from the community,
and renders no equivalent for it. The liquor-sellers are
supported, and what equivalent do they render ? I went

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down in front of Newgate soon after the body of the
wretched Mobbs was cut down ; and all round in the beer-
shops and gin-shops were crowds of poor miserable wretches
standing and drinking the fiery fluid. It was a horrible
sight, and I was told by a gentleman who knew the matter
perfectly well — "These men have been driving a better
business since five o'clock this morning, than they have any
other morning since tlio last execution," There they
arc furnishing more victims to be, upon the gallows,
judicially strangled. The trade is useless too ; it benefits
nobody but the liquor-seller, and him only in a pecuniary
point of view. A curse seems to r^st upon the trndi; ; it
does not seem to thrive, for we can scarcely find a fortune
ever descending to the second and third generations that
has been made by dealing cii!; intoxicating liquors.

There are some other reasons wjiy 1 hate the trade
«\nd wage war against it. We have a great command
—"Thou fhalt love the Lord thy God with a'l thy heart,
and soul, and mind, and strength, and thy neighbour as
thyself; on these two commandments hang all the law and
the prophets." My professions of love to God are not worth
a fig, unless they beget in me love to my neighbor. Who is
my neighbor? The liquor-seller is my neighbor, and I
am bound to love him — even the poor wretch who said
that he would cut my throat if he had to live ten y(>ars to
do it. He won't have the chance, fox* that was eight years
ago, and I am going to stay two years in Great Britain, I
hope. I am bound to love him, if I do not, I am not a Chris-
tian. In pure love to the liquor -seller, then, I can attack his
business with all the power I have. I have heard some
people say that the liquor-seller has no conscience, no be-
nevolence, and no sympathy. This is all wrong. The liquor-
Seller has a conscience, he has benevolence and sympathy.
If a man should fall down in front of his establishment,
and break a limb, he would no doubt runout, lift him into
an easy position, wipe the drops from his brow, and con-
vey him home. Some of them have, no doubt, paid 10s. or
5s. or 2s. 6d., according to their ability, to the widows and
orphans of the soldiers. But put one such into his business,
and where is his sympathy and benevolenfce towards
the wretched victim of his own tradci? That business
comes between him and all sympathy for his fellow-men.
Let a wife or a child come in and say, "Don't serve my
husband or my father with drink," nine out of every ten

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would serve him if he had the money to pay for it. I said
this at Kdinhiirgh_ and I was astonished at the letters that
came from wives who had been insulted and abused, when
going to plead for their husbands. One woman was taken
up for a breach of the peace, simply because she had knelt
down in the grog shop, and prayed for her husband, who vas
in an inner room. Let me suppose that I went into one of
your gin shops. I shall not do so ; but suppose I should ;
though I don't know that I like to suppose the case. I feel
like the negro who was arguing with another, and said to him
"Now, Cuff, if we Avant to illustrate dis point and bring it
out of the dark profundity, in whicli it is evaporating itself,
we shall have to s'pose a case." " Very well, s'poseaway den."
" Now, s'pose you was down at Brigham's saloon last night."
" I warn't deic!' '' But s'pose you was." " 'Tell you I warn't
dere." " Well, you needn't be angry about it, or else we shall
have to drop 6c argument, and let it sink into de profundity
from whicli it was going to evaporate itself." " Well den,
s'pose away ; but don't touch my moral character," " Well,
den s'pose you ivasat Brigham's saloon last night." " You
gay dat again, nigger, and I'll knock you down. I won't
let any man suppose I go into a place where they sell liquor."
Now, I don't want it to be supposed that I should go into a
liquor-shop ; but suppose I should, for the sake of argument.
Now, suppose the proprietor had read the history of my life
from twelve to twenty-five — a snene of almost unmitigated
misery and privation: suppose he knew that now all pros-
pects are bright before loe— that the dark and gloomy pall
that hung over the drunkard's grave is looped, and I bathe to
night in the bright gushing beams of the star of hope, that
dawned ten years ago upon my pathway. Suppose he knew
that none loved me, none esteemed me — that I was home-
less, friendless — that now I have a home : suppose he knew
that I have a sister who was once the wife of an intemper-
ate man, but is now the happy mistress of a temperate,

peaceful home that for twenty years I had not seen

my father — tiiat for eight years I had supposed him dead —
that that father has been restored to my arms, and that
one of the joys of my life is, that I can make his last
days, temporarily at any rate, his best days. Suppose he
knows that I am a member of a Christian church, in good
standing with my brethren. He knows that if I drink
that glass of brandy it will make my name infamous, a by
word, a hissing, a reproach, a loathing, a scorn in the com-

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t\lk

munity — that it would break the heart of my wife, and
bring the grey hairs of my father with sorrow to the grave
in a month — that it would bring a cloud over the happy
home of my only sister — that it would ruin me body and
soul, for time and for eternity ; how many liquor-sellers are
there in London who, knowing all that, would refuse to give
me the brandy to-morrow morning ? That is a question I
don't answer ; but T will ask another. How many publicanB
are there in London who would pay money to bring it to pass,
and pay more money to set the telegraph wires to work I
" Aha I Gough the temperance advocate, who spoke in Exeter
Hall one night, was drunk the next day ! Fa ! ha ! ha!" How
many are there who would chuckle and laugh, and rub their
bands to see me cursing, staggering and reeling through the
streets with a broken-hearted wife at my heels ! There is no
traffic under heaven that will beget a spirit of malice in the
heart so luick as a traffic in intoxicating liquors ; and that is
is one reason why I hate it. I hate it, again, because, sub-
ject as we are to the evil brought upon us, we have no re-
dress. I believe that in London, temperance, morality, pie-
ty and virtue, are in the majority, and that drunkenness, ruf-
fianism and debauchery are in the minority ; yet, the major-
ity are ruled and trampled under foot by the rank, reeking,
reeling, rotten minority ! We have no power of redress. —
Some say, " You must try moral suasion. This is a moral
movement, and I do not believe you will do any good but by
moral means." What are moral means? Do you consider a
wholesome law a moral agency ? I consider the prohibitory
laws of Maine,Vermont, Massachusetts, and other Stutes, to
be the highest point of moral suasion to which they have at-
tained ; and I believe this — that you might as well undertake
to storm Gibraltar with a pop-gun, or attempt to make the
Emperor Nicholas an honest man, or to do any other impos-
sible thing, as to move a man by moral suasion who has got
no moral principle. Three Friends went to try the Czar with
moral suasion • you go to these men with moral suasion, and
they will bow and smile and assent to all you say, and then
when your back is turned, cry out, " What a contemptible
pack of fools these men are !" I saw a young man who once
told me to try moral suasion, at a meeting, and I said to the
audience, pointing to him — " Some say we ought to try moral
suasion exclusivel}'. Now, I want to give you a fact. Thir-
teen miles from this place a woman accosted a lady, and said,
*' My husband is a drunkard; I went home and found him

101

drunk on the floor. I have worked and hoped and prayed ;
but 1 feel that 1 must give it up in despair. My husband went
away, and was gone ton days. He came back again with the
small-pox; two of the children took it, and both of them
died, I nursed my husband through his long illness, watch-
ed over him night and day, and felt, surely he cannot drink
again ; he cannot abuse me again ; if he shouldevr get upon
his feet he will remember all this. Mr. Leonard kept a spi-
rit shop about three doors from my house, and soon after my
husband went out, Mr. Leonard got him in and gave him
some drink. He was worse than ever. He now beats and
bruises me I worked in a factory, and I have been unused
to such treatment before I was married. I went into Mr.
Leonard's shop one day, nerved almost to madness by the
fact that I could spe no hope. I said,* Mr. Leonard, I wish
you would not sell my husband any more drink.' ' Get out of
this,' said he, ' away with you, this is no place for a woman ;
clear out!' ' But I don't want you to sell him any more
drink 1' ' Get out, will you ; if you wasn't a woman I would
knock you into the middle of the street.' 'Well, but, Mr.
Leonard, don't sell my husband any more drink.' ' Mind yoi:r
own busines.=, I eay.' 'But my husband's business is minejf
* Get out ! If you don't go I'll put you out !' I ran away, and
the man was ver/ angry. Three days afterwards a neighbor
came in and said, 'Mrs.Tuttle,your Ned's just sent out of Leo-
nard's shop so drunk that he can't stand.' ' What 1 my child
only ten years old?' ' Yes.' The child was picked up in the
street, and carried home, and it was four days before he
get about again. I then went into Leonard's? shop, and
said, ' You gave my boy Ned drink.' ' Get out of this, I
lell you,' said the man. I said, ' I don't want you to give
my boy drink any more ; you have ruined my husband-—
for God's sake spare my child ;' and I went upon my knees,
and tears ran down my cheeks. He then came and lifted
me by the shoulders, and kicked me out." Then said I,
" Young man, you talk of moral suasion ; suppose that
woman was your mother, what would you do to the man
that kirkcd her?'^ He jumped right off his seat, and said,
'•I'd kill him." " That's moral suasion, is it?" "Yes,"
said he, repeating it, I'd kill him, just as I'd kill a wood-
chuck that had eaten my beans." Now, we do not go so
far as that, we do not believe in persecution, but we be-
lieve in prevention. We believe the people demand pro-
tection, and that protection they will have. We tind in
America that the prohibitory law works well. My doctrine

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102

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has been, that if it is right for a man to soil liquor, he should
sell it without restriction, and that if it is wrong he should
not sell it at all. Our attempts must be effectual, I would
not giv. a fig for all your attempts to restrain the traffic
otherwise than by an entire prohibition. You may as well
attempt to blow out a fire in a prairie as to stem the tide
of drunkenness, unless you take effectual means ; and I
believe that effectual means is the diminishing of the
drinking usages of society, and the annihilation of the
traffic in intoxicating liquors. Our object is not persecu-
tion — we want to wrong no man — but to war against a trade
that is doing injury to the community — to surround our-
selves with the wall of prohibition. If anybody can show
us a better way than by the annihilation of the liquor busi-
ness, we shall be very glad to receive his proposals. But
do not hinder us. If you do not see fit to give your coun-
tenance and aid and co-operation, do not attempt to throw
obstacles in our way. The day is dawning, I shall be in my
grave, and the green grass waving over it, if I am ever
buried upon the land, before victory is achieved. Is that
any reason why we should not work ? But we are in God's
hands ; if we are right we shall succeed ; if we are wrong
our movement will come to nought. We believe we shall
succeed. Let us have faith ; let us trust. What is trust,
but putting your foot upon the void, and finding the rock
beneath? If -we see no blade of grass to cheer our sight,
let us sow, let us water, let us pray : coming generations
will reap the harvest, and we may, God helping us, stand
upon the shores of a better land, to welcome them as they
come with their sheaves, that they have garnered upon the
field that we have sown in tears when we were upon earth.
A day of triumph is coming. Never mind scorn, contempt
and contumely. We are in advauce of the age, like every
good enterprise. Count me over the chosen heroes of this
earth, and I will show you the men that stood alone, whilst
those for whom they agonized and toiled poured upon
them contumel3^ an 1 scorn. They were glorious inconoclasts
sent out to break down the Dagons worshipped by their
fathers. The very martyrs of yesterday, who were hooted
at, whom the mob reviled and expatriated ; to day the chil-
dren of that generation who mobbed and revibd them are
gathering up their scattered ashes, to deposit them in the
golden urn of their ration's history. The army that fought
for the right were persecuted ; to-day they are honored.—
Our time is coming.

IMPORTANCE OF FEMALE INFLUENCE.

J. B. GOUGH'S ADDRESS TO LADIES.

Friday, April 28th, 1854, in Willises Rooms, London.

I MUST confess to some fear and trembling in standing
before this audience, to speak to them upon the subject of
temperance. I do not stand here in the spirit of dictation, I
do not come here as a teacher or as an instructor — but I come
simply to present the claims of the temperance enterprise,
and, if possible, to enlist your sympathies in its behalf, and
do away with any prejudices that may exist 'n the minds of
some in reference to it All acknowledge thsi. intemperance
is a fearful evil — a withering scourge to this country ; and
all acknowledge that is perfectly right and proper to do
what we can to remove an evil. All acknowledge that the
evil arises directly from the use of intoxicating drinks as
a beverage, and all acknowledge that if the principles of
total abstinence were universally adopted the tide of intem-
perance would be rolled back from this land for ever. All
the assenting to these propositions, however, avails us
nothing, as long as there is apathy and indifference with
regard to the movement. I feel it exceedingly important
that this subject should be brought before the ladies of this
country ; and, although I would fain that some one better
able to present its claims to thom, and more worthy of
your respect and esteem and confidence than I am, should
address you, yet I am perfectly willing to express my views
freely and fearlessly.

I had the privilege of addressing 3,300 ladies in the City
Hall, Glasgow ; and the effect of that meeting was good.
I have so much faith in women's influence that I always
feel encouraged to come before them with this subject. We
who are engaged in this enterprise are engaged in waging
war against the drinking usages of society ; we believe that
ladies can not only restrain and regulate, but control the
social customs of a country ; and therefore we feel, when
we get their aid and influence, that there is a powerful
agent employed in destroying the instrumentalities that
promote and perpetuate the evil of drunkenness.

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104

Some persons say that we take the ground that every-
body who drinks must necessarily become intemperate.
We say no such thing ; we know that it is not the case.
A minister of the gospel, however, once said — and though
it may seem extravagant, I say amen to it — " Would to
God that the first drop of intoxicating liquor a man shall
take into his system would produce in him at once the
effect of years of drunkenness ; then we should have no
more of it. The father would not dare to give it to his
child ; the mother would n'^ more dare to put it to the
unpolluted lips of that boy than she would dare to put his
hand into the den of the rattlesnake. Now, we believe
that to mothers and sisters, and all who love little children
the bare possibility of a child becoming a drunkard is some-
thing 80 terrible, that the mother would fold her loving arms
round that child, and stand between him and theinstru
mentality that might make him such, and fight as for her
own life. We will not even say there is a probability, but
we may say there is a possibility ; and, ladies, it depends a
great deal more upon that boy's temperament and constitu-
tion and disposition than it does upon his strength of mii:d,
his genius, his training, or his position. Take the boy, or man,
if you please, that is of a cold phlegmatic tempurameui —
one of those stolid mea, and we find a great many of them
with no excitability about them ; they never were nervous
in their lives, and they wonder how a man can ever get
nervous ; they are men moderate in all things — in their
political views, in their religious opinions, in their affec-
tions, or at any rate in the manifestation of them. You
never see a man like that, when he sees a friend on the
other side of the street, whom he had not seen for two or
three j'ears, running out of his shop without his hat, and
shaking him b}"- the hand as if he would shake him out of
his coat. You never saw him in a hurry in your life. Now,
there is a man whose temper and constitution stand
between him and excess. Take another man, naturally
close-fisted — what we should call in America calculating ;
there, again, is a temperament that stands between the man
and excess. But take that boy of yours, full of fire and
poetry, of a nervous temperament, easily excited, fond of
Boc'ety, making himself the life of society, who can sing a
good song and sing it well, and tell a good story, his eye
flashing as he makes the point to it *, everybody loves
him ; he is as noble, true-hearted and generous a soul as
ever walked the streets. That is the man most likelr to

105

become a drunkard of any in the community. Why? Be-
cause every intemperate person is diseased, and that disease
in the system is an appeiite fastened there by the use of in-
texicating liquors — fastened more terrifically sure than any
other. You know how hard it is to save a drunkard. But
■we can save the next generation. Hare you ever thought
that if death was left alone the gaunt reformer would sweep
away drunkenness in twenty- five years, if there were no
more made. And who are they made of? Though literary
men and others may sneer at our movement, though they
may curl the lip of scorn at our total abstinence associations,
and our rejecting the good creatures of God, I thank God that
no total abstainer can be a drunkard, and if he is not saved
from any other evil under the sun he is saved from that by
his principles of total abstinence.

Some ladies have said to me, " But you total abstainers
seem to blame us for conforming to the customs of society ;
as if we had no sort of care whether our friends became
intemperate or not." It is not so. Do you suppose I
would dare to stand up and say that the mother that gives
her child drink has no love for her child? I remember
an incident that occurred upon Table Rock before it fell.
A lady was standing there, and seeing a shrub just below
her, went' to pluck it, and stepping forward, her foot
slipped, and she was dashed to pieces. Now, I ask, if there
was a sister who should stand with her brother upon Table
Rock, and he should say, "Sister! I'll 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, you have nerve enough to pluck it?" There
is not a sister that would not say, " There is risk in it ;
stand back 1" And yet the sister is saying, "Brother, pluck
the wreath entwined around this goblet; thousands have
been stung to death by the serpent concealed in the ft^ds
of the flowers, but bind it on your brow ; to you it shall
be a wreath of honor, although to thousands it has been u
band of everlasting inlamy."

Then we say, the ladies have an influence to exert in
behalf of children. What will not a mother do for her
child? What is not the influence of a mother upon her
child ? There is not a mother in our land that dreams, as
she lays her her hand upon the brow of that boy, of the

106

power that she has over him for good or evil. I have
been, in the furtherance of my mission, among the worst
specimens of humanity, as they are called; I have been
in prisons, liouses of refuge, houses of correction, peni-
tentiaries, alms-houses, on ships of war, amongst regiments,
and in all places where we should suppose hardened men
would be found, and I never yet met with a man who had
<i good mother, but the word mother touched him, when
nothing else would move him. I remember speaking to
about four hundred prisoners in America, and I could not
help noticing their appearance. Some were shuffling along
as if they were ashamed of their position ; some appeared
as if they did not care anything about it; some were
strutting, as if they were proud of their parti-colored
dress. One man passing by me gave me a peculiar look ;
I watched him till he sat right in front of me ; and as he
looked at me, I thought of that line of Coleridge's in the
Ancient Mariner —

" He held him with his glittering eye."

I could hardly take my e3''e from him. Turning to those
by whom I was surrounded, I said, •' Are these men sinners
above all others ? as Christ said of those upon whom the
tower of Siloam fell. No." Then said I to them, " My bre-
thren, who hath made me to dilfer from you? I can say to
each of you, ' There am I, but for the grace of God.' Some
of you think you are hardened, and the world call you hard-
ened ; the brand of felon is upon your brow, and you take no
pains at all to undeceive the people in reference to it, but
you are not all hardened, some of you have a depth of ten-
derness away down deep in that seared heart, that sometimes
astonishes yourselves. Some of you that hear me, perhaps,
have been blessed with a good mother; you remember
how her soft warm hand rested on your head, as she
taught you to pray the first little prayer your lips ever
uttered ; and in the solitude of your soul at midnight,
with no eye but that which never slumbers and sleeps
upon you, the inspired words of that mother come ring-
ing into the ear, sinking down into your heart, and you
bury your face in your hands, and tears run over your
cheeks, as the form and face of that mother came looming
in deep shadows, and you weep like a boy, dash away the
tear, and move out again as if you had no feeling." That
man was yet looking at me ; tears ran down his cheeks.

When f got tliroiigh my address, ho shut his hands, and
although there was a penalty for speaking out without
permission, he cried out, " My Go ! my poor old mother !"
and wept like a child. The chaplain told me it was the
first emotion he had ever seen in that man. •* I have gone
to read to him," he said, "and he has cursed me; T havo
been to pray with him, and he has spat at me." It was
the remembrance of a mother that he lov^d, and of a
mother that taught him years ago. I remember well a
mother's teaching ; and when I speak before an audience
of ladies — although perhaps I am not litted to address
them as they have been used to ^ addressed, for I
am rather rough in my speech, and come before them with
no education but that of experience and observation — I
cannot speak of a mother's influence without giving testi-
mony to my own. My mother was a devoted Christian ;
she taught me to pray; she was one of the Lord Jesus
Christ's nobility ; she had the patent signed and sealed
with his blood ; she died poor, and left her children the
legacy of a mother's prayers, and the Lord God Almighty
as the executor of her last will and testament; and I be-
lieve that my mother has changed a life of sufftjring, toil,
privation, pain, and poverty, to bask In the sunshine of her
Saviour's smile. I believe that my mother, from her bright
home above, sees her poci- wandering, wretched, homeless,
hopeless boy, brought back to hope, happiness, respecta-
bility, and expectation of heaven, as the result of her teach-
ing and her prayers. A mother's power, God only knows it.
You have a power over these little ones that are coming
up, and we ask you to exert it. The sister, the wife, the
mother — all have an influence to exert. I have sometimes
seen a whole town revolutionized in its customs, simply by
the movement of a few ladies.

I had been speaking two or three evenings in a town
in Vermont, and I had the hardest audience, to use a com-
mon expression, that ever I addressed in my life. They
seemed as if there was no making any impression upon them.
They sat looking at one another, as much as to say, " I won-
der what he is going to do next?" If anything that was
said was calculated to make them smile, and one person
began to titter, everybody looked at him, and he held down
his head as if he were ashamed. It was a strange sort of
audience altogether. I said to them on the second night,
" Gentlemen, I know by your looks that you will do nothing ;

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108

I know" you do not int( ml to do anjMhing ; you liave como
here with a sneer on your face, and it would take three
nights to address you, to get through that cloak, and arrive
at your hearts. There are some ladies, however, that can do
something, if they will, and if they say they will I know
they will. It is to them that I appeal. The next day, I
was Rtayin<j at a house in the town, when twenty-seven
ladies came to see me. I assure you I was pomewhat startled,
for 1 had not been used to meeting such a committee ; and
although I have been before people for the last eleven years,
I have a degree of what you may call diffidence that I never
can got over; and, indeed, rather than have come here this
afternoon, if I had not believed it my duty ; I would have
run the gauntlet between two rows of men, with knotted
handkerchiefs, right across from here to Westminster. But
1 felt it my duty, and I came here shaking and trembling
before ys^u. And when these twenty-seven ladies came in,
If they had not said anything to me, I think they might
have been there till now, and I should not have said any-
thing to them. '<Well, Mr, Gough," they said, "you told us
last night to do something ; if we only knew what we could
do, we arc willing to do something." " Well," I said, "it's
rather a strange question to ask me. Have you a society of
children here ?■' We call th;m in the United States, "cold
water armies." "No, v\e have not," c^id the ladies. '* Then,"
said I, "there are enough of you to to canvass this whole town,
and to get every child, with it's parents consent — not with-
out — to adopt the principle of totsil abstinence. Get
every child to sign the pledge ; go to the ministers
houses, to drunkard's houses to abstainc^rs houses ; go every-
where. Get every child you can to sign the pledge ; and I
shall leave town after* to-night's meeting, but will return on
Saturday. If you get the children, and it is fine weather,
we can go into the grove, and have some singing and talk-
ing with the children, and I believe good will be done."
They said they would do so, and I felt satisfieti that the
thing would be done. We went at night to the place of
meeting, a large room up two pair of stairs ; for they
would not let us have the place of worship, which is
usually granted to us. Some one, however, said. " Hark !

there is the bell
bell of the place
such a ringing I
the husband of one

ringing,' and sure enough it was.
of worship was ringing away,
never before heard. It appeared
f the ladies had one of the

The
and
that
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109

and 8ho got it and opened the door, and rang the bell
as well as 8l)o could, thinking tlmt when we once got
in, they would not turn us oui, and they I'id not. We had
no lights, but the ladies went and ubtainid Konie candles,
so that we had quite light enough on the fiubjeot of tem-
perance. Now 1 am not saying that the ladies of London
shouhl do this. This was in a country village, where uU
could be done witli perfect propriety, while in the city it
would be an absurdity. But 1 am only showing what the
ladies can do if they please. The next Saturday there
was a band of music heard in the streets ; not a wry
good band it is true ; but they musti red as m niv instru-
ments as they could to make a noise, and marched up the
streets witii a large banner, on which wa?* inscribed, "The
Ladies of Brattleborough — Teetotal or no husband ; religion
our safeguard ; temperance our shield ;" and they marched
up with it, with 306 childien, into the grove. Several min-
isters were there, and spoke in behalf of the enterprise. The
party then came down the streets again, and happened to
pass by some young men who w- re n fiont of one of the
tciverus — ^>'oung men of good iamilies, who had »:othing to
do but smoke cigars, and putf up the smoke in spiral
wreaths around tht;ir hats. One of them said, ♦* Li^teu !
there is some music in the street." " Yes," said another,
"they have been mustering an army, 1 suppose," and they
pooh-poohed and sneered at the matter, as a great many
persons do who don't know anything about it. At last, one
of them said, " Hallo ! what is that ? ' The ladies of Brattle-
borough. — Teetotal oi no husband,' Well, that's a good'uu I"
and the young men laughed and chuckled, and were very
merry about it, and thought it a very absurd thing. But
by-and-by, one of the young gentlemen tound out that there
was a certain Miss some one in that procession. He looked,
and sure enough there she was;an(i at on e he Ingan to arrange
his dress, put his cigar behiiui him, liuttoued up his coat, and
looked very demure Now, the consequence of that move-
ment was this ; the town was one of the most drunken towns
iu Vermont; the young men were going to destruction by
by scores ; they were growing in wickedness j*id dissijtation j
but before the sun w-^nt down that night, fifty-nine young
men took the pledge. That was in 1844, and now there is
not a single publij-housc in Brattkbonmgh, but there is in-
stead one of the most splendid water-cure « stablishments we
have in the United States. All this was done by tiio ladies

110

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•V(

lili

Hi]

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iil^t

■''■Ji;

setting their faces against the drinking customs of society.
They put forth their power ; it wus lilic (1 opping a pel>h!o
into the ocean — the ripple Jiot decnasing, but increasing,
until it dashed with might and power on th<! opposite
shore, and bearing upon its bosom men and women saved
by their instrumentality. This shows that ladies have
power, and v\c ask thi-m to put it forth, in hrhalf of tho^e
who are exposed to the evils of the drinking customs of
society. We maintain that those customs are positively
useless. Look at the presentation of wine as a beverage;
it is simply a fashion ; there is no good in it. There is a
stimulus, I grant you ; but that will not benefit your child.
Every physician will tell you that an article which may
be used as medicine to remove a disease, will always pro-
duce disease if it is given to a healthy person. The stimulus
becomes a fascination ; to a nervous young man it is de-
lightful. There is concentric influence on the brain, a
thrilling of the nerves, a sending of the blood to the very
tips of the fingers ; it becomes a fascination, and the fas-
cination becomes a passion, and the passion becomes a dis-
ease ; till the man becomes intemperate, and you find it a
difficult matter to cure him.

But I have heard, ladies, there is a good deal of enjoyment
in taking a glass of wine with a friend ! So there is in taking
a glass of water, and it is for ladies to say whether it
shall be wine or water. If the ladies of London would unite
in saying, "I will give no more wine, I will discountenance
the use of it in our social circles," the thing would bt-come
disreputable and unfashionable in six months. Now, I con-
eider that tukingwine with a friend is the most absurd thing
on the face of the earth. When on board a steamer from
Boston to Halifax some time ago, I remrmber a man whom
they named Mr. Stupidity, and he was certainly the most
«tupid looking man I ever saw in my life ; he was fond of
taking wine with everybody, but more especially with the
captain He was very stout, and his intellectual faculties
vrtre very heavy, if they had their seat in his head, for his
Lead seemed to be pushed on to his shoulders, so that he had
•scarce any neck, and he had not half as much expression as
;there is in a good English plum-pudding when the knife
touches it. He would take wine exactly and by rule, he
would wait till the captain had filled his glass, then look
ound, then see that the captain was ready, and then smile and
bow, then drink his wine, and smile and bow again, and the

Ill

thing wasdonp, and certainly to a looUcr-on the who^c thing
Bcenied vtry absurd. Now, stipposo I were to say to a friend
opposite, "Will you take a little piece of bread and butter
with me?" and then I bow and smile, and then bite a piece
of bread and butter, and cat it, and swallow it, and smile,
and bow atrain, ar d it is all through. Now that is very
absurd. But why should it be more absurd to take a piece
of br(!ad and butter with a fiiend than to take a glass of
wine? Simply because one is fashionable and the other is
not. Now we are calling upon the ladies to break down
these customs ; and whatever may be the apathy and indif-
ference of people now, the day will come when they will be
entirely abolished We live in an age of progress. I know
the word progress is one which has been wofully abused ;
but we do live in an age of progress. Wo look back upon
the past, and we feel encouraged to look into the future, and
sec daylight standing tiptoe on the mountain-top ; ushering
in the day when our flag-staff shall be planted yonder, that
shall bear aloft the banner of our triumph. We believe the
day of triumph is to come. There has been a change in the
drinking customs of society within the la-t twenty years;
you know that well. A baronet in Scotland told me the
other day — *♦ In the class of society in which I move, there
is not one-tenth of the drinking there was a dozen years
ago. Fifteen years ago, gentlemen got drunk, and had their
servants to carry them to bed, and made a joke of it the next
morning ; now it is a disreputable thing for a gentleman to
get intoxicated in another gentleman's house. This is pro-
gress. We do not expect to achieve our triumph all at once ;
I shall be long in the grave before the day of triumph to this
enterprise comes ; but it is to come, and it will come. Some
of you say, " I do not know what I can do with regard to
this matter." Now, I believe that sometimes with many
persons '* I don't know what I can do," amounts simply to
this — " I don't care anything about doing " You might ask,
What can you do for the slaves of the United States ? You
are three thousand miles distant from them; you have iio
relative perhaps that holds a man in bondage ; bnt what have
not the ladies of Great Britain done ? The voice of sympathy
with those who are laboring to break off the bonds has come
to ns across the Atlantic ; the soft words of women in Eng-
land speaking to her sisters in America, have been heard ;
and although you received an insulting answer, that answer
was never written by the one who signed it. That is the

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opinion of all who know anything al)Oi:t her ; not but that
she would have done it, but she did not do it. As an
adopted citizen ot that country, though an Englishman by
birth, I say it was not the voice of tho women of America. You
expressed your sympathy with the cause of the slave, and
your thorough hatr«.d of slavery, and your deterraination
never to cease moving until the last f tter was bioken. Now,
here is a question that presents itself in a different aspect.
I do not wish to depreciate anything that is done for the
slave ; but you ladies can sit here at home very quietly, and
write letters, and pass resolutions, and have meetings, and
soli. )8 and banquets, and it co-tsyou nothing, but the mere
giving of funds, and that is not much. But the temperance
question comes right into your households, and stands there
and demand? a personal sacrifice. That is the reason why
so many ladies of this country stand bacK. It demands the
giving up of that which may be to you lawful — of that
which may to you a gratification — because your brethren
and sisters are suffering from the use of it. We call
our enterprise a benevolent one ; it would not be so
unless it cost something. The glory of the movement
is, that seir-denii 1 is r qr.ired. Vou would not give a
man ••" a woman credit for benevolence unless it cost some-
thing. On the broad ground of Chrisiianity and benevolence,
then, we ask you to aid us.

But some say, .'* You are ptitfing this temperance question
for the removal of a moral :;vil, in the place of the Gospel;
which is the great remedy." Now, if you use this argument
in reference to the temperance question, why not use it in
reference to any other question ? We do not substitute tem-
perance for the Gospel ; the temperance pledge will not make
a man a Christian ; it will save your boy from drunkenness,
though it may not save him from any other sin, He may be
no more a conver^.ed man than Juda« ; but he cannot be a
drunkard. But some say "You have infidels in your society."
So we have. There is no virtue in total abstinence that will
make an 'nfidel a Christian. This is not a sectarian move-
ment— it is not a religious enterprise — it is a mere human
instrumentality for the n^moval of a fearful evil. We allow
all men upon the platform. If I endeavor to save my
neighbor from fire I get my ladder and hasten to the
,p1ace where he is. A man says, " Shall I give you a lift?''
iShall I turn round to him and say, "Stop a minute ; what
is your religious persuasion?" "No, don't stop a minute."

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If you are an infidel, a Mahometan, a Hottentot, a Caffr •, if
matters not. Come shoulder to shoulder witli mt', h.lp me
to carry that ladder to save that man ; and when we have
saved him. we may separate on religious or political m.itterg
as far as the poles.

Some say that our enterprise tends to infidelity. Nov,,
we look abroad through the length and breadth of the
land, and defy you or any person to prove that any
individual ever became an infidel by becoming a total
abstainer. I was in Glasgow about a month since, and Mr.
Livingstone asked me if I would go to a place of worship.
A little church had lately been formed, and he gave me
the history of that church as we were walking together.
A gentleman met us, and asked Mr. Livingstone, " Will you
be kind enough to tell me where I can find a school-room
somewhere at the back of the Police-office ?" ♦• Are you go-
ing to preach there?" said he. " Yes, I am to preach there
this afternoon ; it is the remnant of the church of our poor
unfortunate brother, who was deposed for drunkenness, and
it is now almost broken in pieces." We then went ou into
the main street, and saw two policemen standing then' ; and
Mr. Livingtone spoke to them. One of them said, "We
always used to have three or four fights hero on a Sunday
afternoon, and no respectable lady could pass by without
being insulted ; but we have nothing to do now but keep
sentry." Now, what was the cause of this? Going forward
we came to a place of worship. It was not a very pleasant
place to go to. There were about 500 persons assembled
there. Mr. Livingstone said the people did not know what
to do in that district. At last it was proposed to go right
down among them and form a temperance socieiy. Temper-
ance meetings were held twice a week ; they met with in-
sult and scorn, and contumely and ridicule; professors of
religion said they were doing wrong, and that they ought to
circulate tracts and have prayer meetings instead of tem-
perance meetings ; but they kept ou thrir temperance meet-
ings, and in two years Mr. Livingstone had twelve applica-
tions tor seats in some place of w(.rship; applications came so
fast that the idea was formed of establishing a church. They
did 80,and had 104 members,88 of whom were rcfo meddi'unk
ards. These men raised a hundred a year to support their
own minister, at.d built a church for themselves. Now, I
point to buch a fact and ask, Is temperance promotive of infi-
delity? I thank God that the total abstinence movement

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has been instrumental in rolling away the stone that stood
at the door of the tomb, and thousands have heard the voice,
"Castoti" the gravf-clothes of drunkenness," followed the
Toice that called them, and been redeemed.

Ladits, 1 will detain you but a few minutes longer. A
sense of cmbarassment sometimes comes over me when I
am before an audience like this. I think I can sometimes
see a

sneer, a

cold look — not that I see one here ; but I
fancy I can sometimes detect it when people look upon me
as a reformed drunkard. It is hard to say this before a com-
pany of hidies Oh! ladies, I would to God that I could
stand before you and declare that I had ever been pure and
free from this accursed thing. But when I look back upon
the past and remember all that I have suffered, the marks of
which are upon me to-day, the brand never to be wiped
out from my brow~the remembrance of seven years of my
short life, like a gap in that life's existence, Fcmetimes mad-
dens mp, and I feel a thrilling to the tips of my fingers, with
a fierce desire to battle the hard black iniquity that set its
foot upon me, crushing me to the earth. I fir^t began to
drink when I was eighteen, and I began among professors
of religion ; it was at a meeting held by a choir belong-
ing to one of the largest churches in New York, jmd the
wine then presented to me was the first I ever drank. I
signed the pledge when I was twenty-five, and oh ! tbofe
seven years! I would like to forget them, to tear out from
my mind the remembrance of scenes I have witnessed. An<t
wh' n I see the young men of the present day, entering as I
did i:jto the outer circle of a fearful whirh ool, fascinated by
the whirl that becomes swifter and narrower, and being
drawn into the vortex, I feel as if 1 could lie down upon the
very earth, and bite the dust, if by my humiliation I could
prevent any one from coming into that whirlpool, from
which I escaped so as by fire — if I could save any human
being from the misery and wretchedness arising frtm the
consciousness of powers once abused, of energies crippled,
and powers pervertt d. There are young man entering into
that vortex to-day, and some of you ladies hare power to
stop them. You have power to throw an influence round
theni to save them. Yon have power to c!o it in a verv great
dej-ree, by sympathy. What is not a woman's sympathy
worth ? A "0:d of sympathy from a woman's ling has many
a tim;; melted a hard heart. I remember a circumstance
occurred in the Uuite;.' States in reference to a man who

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afterwards made hirr self famous as a historian and statesman.
He was entirely an intemperate man. He loved a lady, and
she acknowledged fairly that she loved him; "but," said
she, " until you will pledge me your honor as a gentleman,
that you will never again touch intoxicating liquor, my
hand cannot be }ours." He went away, and was very angry,
for he wished te have no such rule imposed upon him ; but
he loved, and back again to her he went, and received the
same answer. He went away again, and again returned, but
with the same result. He pleaded, and she weepingly re-
fused, and so it went on. One day I was walking in the vi-
cinity of Richmond, and was shewn the place where this
lady saw some one lying beside the road. It was a hot day,
and some kind of curiosity induced her to look, and there
ahe saw this very gentleman. It was he who had knelt at
her feet — the man that had asked her to become his bride,—
there he lay ; the hot sun's rays blistering his glorious
brow, as he lay there stupefied, stultified with the drink.—
She pitied him, felt sorrow for him, but what could f>he do?
She took her handkerchief, and spread it gently over his
face, that the sun's rays might not burn him, and went away.
Afterwards, he came to himself, and staggered to a dram-
shop near at hand. He was a man of wealth and property,
but guardians were placed over him, and his property was
put under some restrictions; yet he could always get
drunk. On arriving at the dram-shop, he said, "Give me
some brandy!" and brandy was put before him. But he put
his hand in his pocket, aud the handkerchief was there. He
looked at it, and said, "Hallo! what's this? a handker-
chief!' He spread it out, and in the corner he saw her name.
The man said, " Here's your brandy, sir." " Brandy ?" said
he. No more of it! not a drop ! Oh my God! not another
drop, never! never!! never!!!" He went to the lady, and
upon his knees swore before God that he would never drink
more. She gave her hand to him, and they were wedded.—
He afterwards rose to eminence, and he never tasted intox-
icating liquor again. This was all achieved by her firmness,
her decision, and her sympathy. Oh ! 3'ou have power, ladies,
by a word ot sympathy and kiiidacss to do much. Theie are
some here whose friends and whose relatives perhaps may
be in danger. You can exert an influence over them. The
vicar of a certain parish in Kent once said, "I will tell you
the reason why I am an abstainer. I had no influence for
good over the drunkards in my parish until I signed tkf

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pledge ; for it was no use to say to them, '• Go and join the
Temperance Society, Go amongst the teetotallers and sign
the pledge." I once saw one of my parisMoni'rs very much
intoxicated, and I told him that I was very much ashamed
to see him in that position, a nuisance to himst;lf, and a
disgrace to the parish. "Now," said I, " why don't you do
as I do ?" He looked at me and said, " You keeps your wine
in your cellar, and takes it regular every day. I takes mine
when I gets my wages, once a fortnight, and then, perhaps,
I gets drunk." »• But why don't you do as I do ;" said I. "I
don't drink wine at all." « Not at all, sir?" "No, I drink
no intoxicating liquor." " 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 up my beer and my spirits, and I will;" and he
went and signed the pledge.

Ladies, this is a glorious and a dignified enterprise,
demanding the sympathy of those who see fit to give it.
There is one thing I wish to say in regard to this enterprise,
before I close my remarks. I maintain, it is worth'' of sym-
pathy and of that of the whole peoi»le. Our enterprise
stands upon the broad basis of truth and right, and that
man, however high his position, who adopts our principles,

from love to his fellow-creatures, by becoming a total ab-
stainer, achieves a higher position still. We will plead for
sympathy, but we will make no compromise. We say to the
highest lady as well as the lowest, " Our enterprise stands
in itg glory and beauty and vastness, and demands the care-
ful and serious investigation of our claims upon your sympa-
thy and your co-operation. We then leave it to you, whether
this sympathy, this aid, shall be granted to us. I do not
like putting a moral enterprise under the patronage of any.
It stands upon its o ah merits ; thousands upon thousands
are rallying round it ; tens of thousands of homes have been
made happy by it. Ah ! how happy 1 I once went into a
drunkard's house, and got the man to sign the pledge. His
•wife was miserable and wretched; the children were ragged,
the vindows and floors were broken, and altogether it seemed
a perfectly miserable home. The man kept the pledge. I
Went a year afterwards, just before a temperance meeting was
to be held. The woman looked beautiful, her countenance was
full of animation, and it did a man's heart good to look at
her. The windows and floors were mended, the children
were looking well, and everything seemed to speak of com-

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fort. The woman said to me, "You will excuso me, but
we want t / put some of these little ones out of the way."
"Oh, certainly!" said I, and then the woman's children
clasped her hands and said after their mother, " Lord, bless
the Temperance cause ; Lord, bless my f ithcr, and strength-
en him to keep his pledge." That is the reason why we
shall succeed. Thousands of such prayers are oift-red, and I
have learned in the Bible, that the prayer of the poor
little ragged filthy child comes as readily unto the ears of
the Lord of Hosts, as the prayer of the mightiest mon-
arch. It is a human being, whatever his position, that we
plead for. There is a day coming for which all otht-r days
were made, when we shall stand on an equality in God's
sight, and only be judged for the deeds done in the body.
And we hope that you may see fit to give as your sympathy,
and, looking on this movement more favorably, to aid, as
far as you may, those who are engaged in this enterjirise.
You have Societies appealing to you. Here is the London
Temperance League ; that will do your work for you. Here
is the Nation.al Temperance Society, and other organizations.
We do not ask the ladies to go into the ditch, or into the
garret, or into that filthy cellar of the dying man, and min-
ister to him in his last necessities. There are those who
will do that ; but will you give them the means? There are
ladies here who by giving means to those associations might
help them wonderfully in this work. It has been with the
Temperance enterprise up-liill work. There are men here to-
day who have given it energy and money. They have iriven
of their time without asking any remuneration, and of their
money without expecting any return, save in the satisfaction
that arises from a conscientiousnes'S of doing good; and we
trust that that may be iluir satisfaction and yours, and that
the blessing of those ready to perish may rest upon you in
all your efforts to do good, » I am grateful to you for
your kindness and pati«'nce in listening to my crude address.
I have not given a literary entertainment, or an intellectual
feast. I never made any such professions I have given
what I believe to be the truth, in ray own way, and grate-
fully acknowledging your kindness in listening to me, bid
you cordially a good aiorning.

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AN ADDRESS T() YOU.XG ME^.

AN ORATION BY JOHN. B. GOUGH,

JDcUve^ed in Exdcr Hall, Wednenday, May IQtK 1854.

LAWRENC . IIEYWOIITPI Esq., M.P., in the Chair.

Ladies and Gentlemkn. — I btlieve it was announced by
the Chaiimai!, last cvming, that I should specially address
young men to-nijj;ht, and although 1 can hut seldom follow
a certain plan in nty speeches, yet as I st-e, and am rejoiced
to see, a large numhi:r of young men here to-night, I will
endeavor to address myself to them. There if* much indif-
ference among men, especially tiie young men, with regard
to the evil of drunker.niss. They look upon it as a little
thing, simple intoxication is a thing scarce woith mention-
ing, and habitual drunkenness they feel secure from, by the
possession of those qualities whicli they seem to believe
the drunkard never had. T. ry do not seem to l>elieve that
the drunkard is a mm once possessed of those noble quali-
ities which they possi ss and which are to prevent them
from bei cm i rig the thing he is. Let us look at the matter
for a monuait.

What is tl at thing that stands gibbering and mewing
before you ? Look at him. lie is a man. And yet God
made man upright; ''God marie man in his own im«ge ;"
God gave man the faculty of looking up into the heavi^ns,
and lifting his forehead to the stars; God gave mun "do-
minion over the bt asts of the field, and the fowls of the
air." He is nature's king. Is that 'hing that stands there,
in all the gibbering idiocy of drunkenness, a man? What
is it that has torn tlie crown from his brow, and de-
graded him brlow the brute ? What is it that has wiped out
God's image, and stamped the counterfeit die of the devil
there? It is tht^ drink, the drink, the drink, that debases and
degrad«is, and blasts and blights, and scathes and damns
everything that is noblr, and blight, and beautiful. Young
men in yoi;r pride, look at him, and learn to hate, with a
perfec t, burning, and ; ternally increasing hatred, the instru-
mentality that ciin thus mar God's image, atjd bring a man
down b 'ov the. beasts that perish. Every man has ambi-
tion, and naturally looks for something higher. Ls there,
then, such a vast difference between yon and the man who
lien in the ditch. In the starting of life he had ambition.
How is if, then, that he has become so debased ? No man
becomes a drunkaid intentionally ; no man starts with the

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glass in his hand and a detcrnJnation that the first drink
shall be tht; first step to ruin anddis^'race ; no man holds it
in his hand, and sa^'s, "I have a fair reputation; I havo
good health; Ihaveawif^-; I broiij^ht her from her girl-
hood's h' me, and promised to lov« her, and cherish her and
protect her: I have little children that clamber upon my
knee, and put their loving arms round my neck, and lay
their fjiir cheeks to mine ; now, with this I am taking the
first step to ruin all that is so beauiiful; I will make that
wife of mine a pale-faced thing, upon whose brow the lean
finger of agony shall trace burning characters ; I will
leave those children a heritage of misery, and want, and
woe; I will m"ke this healthy frame of mine, 'fearfully
and wonderfully made,' a mass of disease more loathsome
than the leprosy of Naaman, so that it shall be a carcase
that a demon would scorn to inhabit, and that the shivering
soul shall by-and-bye quit in disgust; and I will do it all
for the sake of the drink ; and here goes the first step down
the fatal sliding-scale !" " No man intends it." Well, then,
how do men become drunkards ? Perhaps that is a question
that it may be as well to answer as fully as the time will
allow.

Every man who becomes an intemperate man, becomes
so from the first step, all the way down^ by a course of argu-
ment, coming to certain conclusions every step he takes.
What are some of these conclusions ? You warn a man
against the use of the drink, and tell him you fear he will
become a drunkard ; atid he will say, " What do you take
me for? Do you suppose I am a fool?" No, sir, I
don't; but is every individual who become an intemperate
man a fool ?"' There have been men, with minds of such
capacity, that they might stand with one foot on the daisj^
while the other was lost in the dust of stars, who have
become crippled by the influences of the drink. In 1840,
seated on an old box, in a lov/ grog-shop, was a man Avho
had sunk as far as a man can sink and live. He told me so,
and so did his friends. There he sat, vvith an old fiddle on
his shoulder, fiddling away, and keeping time v/ith his foot,
to the amusement of a set of drunkards, some of whom
were paying him with raw spirits for his music, and others
dancing and footing it away to the miserable tunes ho
.scraped out of that wretched instrument. If you had
seen him, you would have said, " Look at that foolf See
him, when they give him the glass of spirits, clutch it iu

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his bloated fingers, and raise it to his lips, and then fiddle
away again, as if ho had come into the world for the
special ptirp/)se of sitting on an old box, and scraping a
cracktd fiddle for drunkards, and he knew it, and was
perfectly well satisfied with his position." But men do not
look long enough sometimes at the drunkard ; lift up that
slouched hat, and note the broad brow that speaks of
iutellcct; watch him, see the light gleaming occasionally
rouud the dull fumes of drunkenness, to tell that a soul is
there. That man signed the temperance pledge, and ihreo
years afterwards represented his district in ihe United
States Congress. None that have seen him as I have, his
noble frame dilating with the big thoughts to which he gives
utterance, in a torrent of burning words that have sunk
into the souls of those who have hung spell-bound on his
eloquence, could ever dream that he was a fool. The
party who nominated him for governor of the State in
1848, did not suppose that they were nominating a fool.
They are not all fools who become drunkards. There are
men to-day who have been redeemed from the ditch,
after whom we have gone down deep, and put our arms,
ay, up to the very elbows in the slime under th'im, to bring
them up and set them face to face with us. Loathsome
they were at first; but now look at them — their eyes flash-
ing forth the fire of intellect, some of them ladiaut with all
the hues of the Christian graces.

There is no power on the face of the earth that can
debase the man like the drink. Take the wisest man you
have, and give him enough, and what will you make him?
I know there are some men that require more than others
to place them in such a position ; but a drunken man,
whether he be a man of powerful intellect or an addle-
pate, is a sorry sight to see ; and the drink will make a
man a staggering idiotic thing. Let him continue it, if ho
pleases, and you will set him standing, with the intellect
God has given him, with the reason and mind and powers he
possessed, all perverted, his senses all stultified, and all his
perceptioms seeming to be crushed. You may say, that you
will let it alone when you have a mind to ; but when you
have a mind to it, you may find that you have not the power.
They tell us that in India there is the Fakeer, who stands
to-day with his arm uplifted ; his nails like eagle's claws,
twisted and twined, and his hand upright. Years ago,
when he first held up his hand, jou might have said to-

him, " Take down your hand." " I can if I please ; it is an
act of my own free will; but 1 have no will to exercise
the power." Go to that devotee now, and say to him,
"Takedown your arm, friend." "I can'tl" «» Well, but

iend." "I can'tl"
you told me you coul J." " Ah! I could once ; but I haye
lost the power ; my arm is rigid, 1 h.ave no power over my
nerves, and there it must remain ; if it is ever again
brought to my side, it must be by another agency than
my cwn, wrenching and crack'ng my shrivelled sinews,
and it will hang then at my side useless And so with
this influence. " I can, but I won't," There is many a
drunkard in this city that would with all his heart and
soul, but he fears that he can't. I know of no more fearful
cry thi..i the cry of despair : "I can't give it up!'" I have
held men's hands in mine, and looked in their face, while
the tears streamed down tlieir cheeks, and T have plead with
them for the love of tlieir family, for the love of their
country, and in view of their responsibility before God, to
give it up; and they have cried out, '• I can't." <'But you
can." " I can't !" " God will help you." " He won't !" " I
can't ! I can't ! ! they have cried to the very last.

I went in the City of Washington to see a man who
vras a member of Congress. Three gentlemen went with
me to see him. He was one of the most disgusting
wretches I think I ever saw. There he sat, his hands so
swollen it seemed as if the skin would burst. One foot was
in a slipper, and the slipper was split down to the toe, and
the foot actually looked as if it lay over it. He held in his
hand a cane ; on the top of which was his name, and the
State to which he belonged, and then in a half-circle were
these words : " Oh God have mercy upon me !" There he
sat, pouring out a siream of cursing, blasphemy and profan-
ity, from m( » ling till night

When we went in, a gentleman «aid a word or two to
^ him, and he stamped with his foot and poured forth such

curses, that it seemed as if he must have been taught them
by the very fiends from the nethermost pit ; and we fairly
stood by aghast, and felt it was no use to say anything to
him. But there was a gentleman present who knew him
in his home ; who knew him when he started in public life,
with prospects bright before him ; who knew his wife and
knew his children ; and he came to him, and he brought
round him all the 'ender, clustering, hallowed associations
of by-gone days. He spoke of his home and of years gone

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by. Ah ! beast as he looked ; he was a man. FTc dropped
his cane, crushed his hands as if he would press the blood
from his finger-nails, and drummed with his foot upon the
floor.

Dickens has said, in one of his works, that Mrs. Todgerg
was a hard woman ; it took a gn-at deal to move her ; but
yet away np a great many stairs in her heart, in a very
remote corner easily passed by, was a door, and on that
door was written woman :" so iu the heart of a drunkard.
Away up a great many pair of stairs, in a very remote
corner, all covered over with cobsvebs ani slime, easily
passed by, is a door ; lot us tap at it once, twice, seven times,
seventy times seven, and the quivering lip and the starting
tear will tell one that a man is there. Ah ! a man.

I remember reading, that in the Bosphorus a beautiful
jewel was dropped in the water, and they wanted to find
the gem, for it was valuable ; but the surface was so rough
they could not discern it. Some one proposed to pour oil
on the .rater; they did so, saw the jewel, and got it. Now
the drunkard's breast is like troubled waters, heaving and
casting up mire and dirt. Let us drop the oil of pyniputhy
upon the heaving waters, and there is a jewel there, and just
assure as God put it there, we will have it; bright and
beautiful ones are now shining like stars in the flrmanent
of talent, virtue, morality and religion, that have been
brought to the surface hy the oil of sympathy making the
waters clear so that we knew where to dive after them.
This man started and shook ; his lips quivered and his eye
filled. By-and-by he said, dashing away the tears as if they
were hung upon his cheek and scalded it, " Gentlemen,
what do you want with me? What have you come to see
me for? Why, gentlemen, you ask me to give up,tiio drink!
Ah! ah ! ah I to give up the drink. Genth men I'd give my
right hand if I could quit it ; but I can't." And he didn't.
Six weeks after that he passed a bowie knife four times
across his bowels, and was found weltering in his blood.

That man was not a fool ; he worked himself up from an
obscure position, to represent his district in the United
States Congress, and when he was sober enough was
appointed on puldic coumittees, as a man of business and
talent. " I can give it up,'" is the cry of the young man,
as he enters the outer circle of the whirlpool, " but I won't."
"I would," is the cry of the poor despairing wretch in the
vortex, " but I can't."

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"When I find out that it is injuring me I will give it up."
When will you find it out ? In a town in Now Hampshire,
called Manchester, a circumstance occurred which I related
to the audience that same evening. A young man, when
twenty-one years of age, received 6000 dollars — a very
pretty sum of money, about £1,200, you know for a man to
go into business with ; — but he thought ho would have a
good time with his money, so he put up at a fashionable
hotel, and got a pair of horses, and drove his friends about
and gave Champagne suppers — Champagne at night, you
know, and real pain the next morning, and sham enough as
regards the enjoyment. At the expiration of two years,
his money was gone ; and, young men, I will toll you one
thing. When your money is gone, your acquaintances are
gone pretty much; for there is precious little friendship
formed around the wine table ; that is, friendship that is
worth anything. I would not give a straw for all the
friends I have made arovnd the drinking table, when the
wine Avas circulated freely. No, give me the friend that
looks at me with sober eyes, and sees my faults and
failings — as well as anything different from my faults
that I may possess; But this man's money was gone, and
he had made no friends. He had not gone the right way to
make them. You cannot make friends by treating them, by
giving them Champagne suppers. As he sat one day in the
bar-room of the hotel, the landlord crme to him, and very
contemptuously touched him on the shoulder, and told him
he had better go out. " What do you mean ?" " I'll let you
know what I mean ; go off with you ; you've got to be a com-
plete nuisance." " What do you talk to me in that way for ?"
" I'll let you know directly, if you arc not off in a very few
minutes ; I'll put you out, or I'll send for the ostler to do it."
" Well, look here now, what do you talk to me in that way
for ? When I first came to board with you I had the best
room, your front parlor, and you used to sit up night after
night for me." " Don't talk to me ; you are not the same
man now, by a great deal." " Not the same maL ? I have
not changed my name. I don't look like the same man ; no
sir, and I don't know that I am the same man ; it's your
cursed drink that has changed me ; and you're the man to
tell me, are you ? You've got all my money, and you have
given me that which has ruined me ; and now you'll tell me
of it, will you ? Well, I am willing to go now, I am not the
same man I was." There are a great many men who will

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wait till some liquor-seller having drained their pockets
of the last halfpenny, and their hack of the last decent rag
of clothing, will kick them out; and then they will hegin t©
find out that drink injures them ; and a great many will wait
till they foul the contemptuous kick of the liquor-seller send-
ing them into the gutter, before they will find it out. When
will a man find it out? Wine is a mocker, strong drink is
raging, and there is no influence on the face of the earth
that is more deceptive than the influence of drink. Oh!
men are, indeed, deceived by it. I have known men posi-
tively deceived into the belief that they were benefitting the
temperance enterprise by getting drunk. I remember read-
ing a story — and I believe it was a fact, though I am not
sure — of a man who was quite drunk ; and a gentleman came
to him, and said, " What are you doing ?" •' Doing ? Well
that's .just what I'm doing." " No, but what arc you about ?"
*• What am I about ? That's just exactly what I am about."
" But what is your business ?" " Business ? I'm in the tem-
perance business" "In the temperance business? Why
how in the world do you make that out?' JWhy look here,
I've got a brother, and he's a temperance lecturer, and I go
along with him as a fearful illustration of the evils of intem-
perance." I don't know but 'lat man was honest, for a
man will think anything almost, when he is in the habit
of drinking.

Some talk about the trouble of leaving off drinking; but
whatever it may cost, it is worth trying. It is worth some-
thing to be able to say, as did .he Indian, holding the bottle
in his hand, * Ah ! devil's spittle ! firc-water ! broth of hell !
I am your master. Ha ! ha 1" There was a great deal of
difference between him and another Indian, who came and
said, " Please to give poor Indian some rum! me good In
dian ! "Ah I but good Indians never go round to beg for-
rum." " Then me great big rascal ; give me some rum."—
The drink will make a man say or do anything to get it."

Some men s&y, " I will not become a teetotaler, and sign
away my liberty." " Liberty ! What liberty ?' " I have
got the liberty to abstain-" " Yes, and so I have." But
you don t use that liberty." Liberty ! a man can't take intox-
icating liquor into his system, except in very rare cases,
unless he subjects himself in a degree, to the influence of
that liquor. Is a man a free man when he is under the
influence of another power? Is a man a free man with
the drink in his system, impelling him to say and do and

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think that which he \i»ould neither say, do or thinlc, with-
out its influence ? And what will not a man do to get his
f'^' iilc, and yet boast of his liberty 1 I saw a man onco
with his head and legs sticking out of a barrel, and ho
could not get out for the life of him ; and he was so much
of a republican that he had knocked the crown out of his
hat — he would not have anything to do with crowns. There
he was, waving that hat of his, and saying, " Hurrah I hur-
rah I for our glorious rights and privileges ! Hurrah 1 for
the liberty of the subject." Liberty I Oh ! yes, they are
crying for liberty ; and yet, what will not a man do to get
his drink ? And not only a low miserable wretch, such a
one as I have heard of and know to be the case, who had
run out every excuse, and run out all his credit. He filled
one bottle with Mater, and put it in one pocket, and took
tho other bottle empty in his other pocket. He went
to the grog-shop, and, producing the empty bottle, said,
" Fill that full of gin ; I've uot the money." It was filled
full of gin ; he knocked in the cork, put the bottle in his
pocket and said, " You'll have to trust me." " No, I shan't
trust you ; give me the gin back." " Well, that's very hard
on a poor fellow." " Give me the gin ; I won't trust you."
" Well, if I must, I must," said he ; so ho gave back the
bottle of water, and as he scratched his head, he said, " That
won't hurt his gin a great deal." Now, you need not think
that when we speak of those who will do anything for
drink we refer merely to such. I knew a case, and I have
no doubt that the individual in question had learned the
trick from reading it, for I read it in an odd volume not a
great while .'igo. "rhis young man was an actor of very fair
talent, who might have done exceedingly well, had he cho-
sen to do so ; but his unfortunate habit was so strong uport
him, that he disgraced himself almost every night. I was
was not acquainted with the theatre with which he was
connected, I only know the facts. The stage manager was
loth to part with him ; so on> day, calling him by name, he
said, " Now if you'll come to night sober, and do your part
like a man, I'll give you five dollars." He said, " I shall do
it, sir ; give me the five dollars ; I'm going to do it." " Ah !
you must perform your part of the bargain ; and you shall
have the five dollars." He went away ; by-and-by, he came
again and said, " I want those five dollars! I don't want to
be beat ; I think you had better shut me up, and then, I
rather think you'll find me sober. He was shut up in a

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room, one door of which led into an ^office where pens, ink,
and paper were kept, and the other opened over an alley
that led to a stable. They came that night, and found liim
so drunk that he could not speak, and when ho did come
to, sufficiently to speak, they got from him how he obtained
the liquor. Said he, " When you left me all alone, I thought
to myself, I must have

something to drink, anyhow, I had

no resource, no book, nothing to think of." Only think of
that; a young man with nothing to think of, who can't
pass two hours alone without stupefying his senses. Oh !
young men, if you would not lay up a storehouse of woe
for yourself, get something to think of, — something that
will satisfy the nobler part of you. " If I had been out,"
said this man, "I should have got along well enough."
Yes ; because he would have gone and got it. " But,"
said he, " 1 felt I must have it ; I walked up and down, and
got almost mad. I hunted round the office co see if I could
find out any bottle, somewhere. I hunted everywhere, but
I could find nothing." He went to the door that opened
into the alley ; he heard some boys playing outside, and he
put his mouth to the keyhole. " Hi ! boys," They looked
round, and could not toll whence the sound proceeded, and
at last he got his finger through the key-hole, and made
motions, and they came up. " Now," said he, poking half
a dollar under the sill, " go over to old Myer's and get a
bottle of brrndy ; tell him I'll send the bottle back." He
weuw to the office, got a quill, and put through the lock,
but it wasn't long enough. So he told the boys to give
tin. a straw ; and the man stood there, with his hands on
uis jtineeg, and sucked the brandy through the straw, while
the boys held the bottle. You ask such a man a^ that to
sign the pledge. '' I'm not going to sign away the liberty
of sucking brandy through a straw, a pint at a time.
Hurrah ? for our glorious rights and privileges." Liberty I
There is no slavery on the face of the earth to be compared
to the slavery of drunkenness. Infiituated as the drunkard
is by habit, he is encircled by its iron net, and he hugs
the chain which fetters him — an abject slave boasting of his
freedom !

Young men, we wage war against the drinking customs
of society, and appeal to you to give up intoxicating liquor
as a beverage, because it is useless. Can you find me one
man that is benefitted by it? What good is there in it?
It is filling our almshouses and our jails ; its irfluence is

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a
Ho

on
lile

to
Qi'ty

his

hanging yon trembling wretch upon the gallows. What
good is there in it ? How many men are dethroning their
reason, and hiding its bright beams in the mystic clouds
thtit roll round the shattered temple of the soul, cur-
tained in midnight ? What good is there in it ? Bring me
a man that is benefitted morally, physically, or intellec-
tually by its use. No good in it ? There is good in that
which we would give you instead of it — pure life-giving
■^ater — water, that God gives to his children. Where does
he brew it ? Not in the simmering still — not amidst smoky
fires and noisome stenches — does he brew it ; no, but in the
green glade and grassy dell, where the red deer wanders,
where the little child loves to play — away down in the val-
leys, where the rills sing and the brooks murmur ; and away
up on the mountain-top, whose granite peaks look like gold
in the sunlight, where the storm-clouds make their glorious
music, and send it from summit to summit, a pa:'an of praise
to him ; there he brews it ; away, away upon the wide sea,
where the hurricane howls the music, and the wild wave
swells the chorus, telling of the march of God across the
waters. There he brews it. Water ! blessed water ! Every-
where it is a beautiful thing — glistening in the dew-drop,
dancing in the hail-storm, hanging in ice-drops like jewels
on the trees. A thing of beauty everywhere ! And there
is no blood stains it ; no broken-hearted wife and pale child
pours burning tears into its depths. Oh ! no ; there is no
horrible curse howled back against it from the death-bed of
the drunkard. Pure, bright, blessed, life-giving, strength-
ening watei». Which will you choose ? Young man ; say ;
speak out to-night 1 Which will you choose, pure, life-
giving water, or the drink that injures you ? There is no
good in it.

" Ah ! but," say some, " there is enjoyment and gratifi-
cation in it." h=o there is ; I have experienced that myself,
I have felt it thrilling to the tips of my fingers, with a new,
strange, delightfully exhilarating sensation. I have beeu
in a club-room when the wine has passed from one to the
other, and we have felt ovrselves great men presently;
Any mistakes in the cabinet, send for one of us ; we would
reconcile all questions to the satisfaction of all parties,
foreigii countries included. When we have been half-drunk,
beautiful visions have passed before our mind's eye,
ard we only wanted the canvass and the pencil to immor-

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talize ourselves. There is a gratification in drinking.
What is it? It is the gratification of intoxication.

" But 1 do not get intoxicated." What do you drink
for? What does any man use intoxicating liquor for?
I know some say they drink it for the taste of it. This is
a very rare case indeed ; because, if I should take every
particle of intoxicating principle out of your wine, you
would not drink it for the taste of it ; and indeed your
heer is such strange stuff, that if you let it stand for six
hours and don't cover it, you won't drink it, because it
gets dead. Dead beer is not good ; you must have it with
the life in it. It is the intoxicating principle that induces
men to drink ; it is the gratification they derive from it.
But what sort of gratification is it? God has given to
man sources of gratification and enjoyment that are not
merely animal. There is a gratification in drink, young
man ; and there lies your danger. If there was no gratifi-
cation in it, there would probably be no fascination ; and
it is the fascination that draws the man into the outer
circle, and brings him round in the fearful circles that are
growing swifter and swifter, till he comes into the vortex.
It is the gratification produced by it. But what is this
gratification ? Can you hold it ? Is there a young man
that can hold it long enough to say, " Ah ! ah ! now I am
happy?" Not one ; you cannot hold it long enough. And
there* are enjoyments that you can hold. I was at a
breakfast this morning at half-past six o'clock. I had the
privilege of seeing there a company of young men — the
young men of the Christian Association — at breakfast. —
There were speeches made there by the ministers of the
gospel; I saw many a manly cheek (and there were some
noble cheeks there) wet with tears. I saw many a young
man swallow to keep back the emotion, and then let it gush
forth, as instruction from the ministers of the Gospel was
poured into their minds. It was a scene of enjoyment
that angels might look down upon and love to see — a
scene of enjoyment that would make hell tremble, and the
foul fiend shrink howling to the nethermost depths of his
abode ; and those young men can lie down quietly to-night,
and if their dreams should be of that meeting, they can
thank God for pleasant dreams. But the enjoyment pro-
duced by the wine cup, what is it? You love not to think
of it, young man, in your best moods. In your highest
and noblest aspirings you would beat back the rem .n-

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brance of scenes of debauchery through "which you bare
passed ; you would think no more of them. You would
say, "Put them behind me : I have something better before
me. Away, away, visions of the past ! Away, such
visitors as these !" The enjoyment is something that you
are not satisfied with. God has given to you sources of
enjoyment that will satisfy the immortal mind, with all
its vast capacities ; put forth your hand and grasp these
sources of enjoyment ; do not be afraid ; take God's holy
word, the blessed Bible, and there you will see that God's
great aim has been to make his creatures happy, and give
them sources of happiness. Happiness is the legitimate
object for all men ; I ut the enjoyment produced by stimu-
lating drinks, what is it? The end of it is fearful —
terrible. The man never gains a doit that is worth having j
and in the chase after that which always eludes his grasp
he loses everything. It is as if a man should start in a
chase after a bubble. He sacrificed everything — life, health,
strength, mind, power, energy, opportunity — and he has
got, what?— God pity him! — a burst bubble, and that is
all. You smile at the Indian chief, who bartered gold and
jewels sufficient to purchase a kingdom, for some plated but-
tons and glass beads ; yet there are men in London who arc
bartering jewels worth all the kingdoms of the earth — for
" What will a man give in exchange for his soul ?" — far less
than a string of glass beads, less than a plated button — for
that which is not palpable to sight or touch — for that which
perishes in the grasp, like the fabled apples of Sodom, bright
and beautiful to view, but dust and ashes when you touch
them, and would set your teeth into them for enjoyment —
like freighting a bubble with a diamond, and launching it
on the waters of a foaming cataract. There is an enjoy-
ment in it, but it is an enjoyment upon which God has set
his seal of reprobation, and in seeking such enjoyments a
man seeks them to his destruction.

These are some of the reasons why we would plead with
young men ; these are a few of the arguments that arc
used by young men to continue their course. But I would
offer them to-night something even higher and nobler than
the mere endeavor to save themselves. Oh ! there is a
power in this assembly — God only knows what that power
is. Oh? that he would stir up the hearts of those who
possess it to put it forth in this city ! There is power
enough to exert an influence such as would astonish those

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who say sometimes, " I have but little influence." And we
would ask the young men of this city to look at the tem-
perance enterprise. There is something noble, I consider
in this movement. You have sneered at it perhaps ; it is
because you have given it no consideration. You have
heard men speak of it contemptuously and with ridicule, and
you have joined in the laugh against it. But we ask you
carefully to consider its claims. You can begin to use your
influence now ; why wait till you are old ? I stood by the
dying bed of one man, and he said to me, " John, that which
troubles me is the consciousness that I have led many
astray, and I can't remember that I have ever drawn a soul
from the path of evil." That is a terrible reflection. God
gives to you power ; he delegates to you a work here upon
earth. It is r good work. I remember thinking of this
more particularly when I was in the city of Kdinburgh. A
woman, with two children came to see me. I was out, and
she waited a hour. My wife was there, and she said, '' I am
sorry I can't see him, but I want you to give him this,"
producing a white handkerchief in a piece of papef ; " I am
very poor — I would give him a thousand pounds if I had it,
but I want you to give him this." She was a plain, homely-
spoken woman ; and she said, " Tell him when he is speak-
ing and takes that handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his
brow, he must remember that he has wiped away some tears
in Edinburgh." Wipe away tears ? It is God's province ;
God shall wipe away tears from all faces ; but he uses us to
do his work here. Thank God ! we may wipe away tears.
Young men, you have an influence to exert. Perhaps you
say, " I can't talk on this subject; I am engaged largely
in my own business, and can't employ my time in this
matter." It was said in approval of one of old — " She
hath done what she could." You arc never asked to do
what you cannot do. We read that when Jesus called
Andrew, he rose and followed him. He did as he was
bid. We do not read that he made speeches, or long
harangues, or that he preached sermons to delighted
multitudes ; but we read that he went and called Peter, and
Peter stood up, and three thousand were converted in a day.
We should, all exert our influence for good, whenever we
have opportunity, I was reading the other day, the
history of the woman of Samaria. You remember Jesus
sat by the well, and the woman came to draw water. His
disciples had gone to buy bread, and he was faint and

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weary. But the woman came to draw water, aud there
was an opportunity of doing good. If lie had been as
selfish as some of lis, he would have said, " I am weary, I
am tired, I am faint, I must take some refreshment, I am
continually laboring, I shall have another opportunity." —
But no : he forgot his faintness and his weariness ; there was
an opportunity to do good, and he talked with the woman.
Suppose he had argued like some of us, what would have
been the result ? She would have gone back with the water
on her shoulders, her neighbors might have said, " Well,
what news at the well ? Nothing ; an interesting stranger
sat there, but he said nothing to me, and I said nothing to
him." But what was the result? She forgot the waterpot,
and went into the city and said, " Come, see a man that told
me all things that ever I did ;'' and the whole city came out
unto him. That was doing good as she had opportunity ;
and there is not a young man here but may lead another
into the path of truth. That man is, I will not say contempt-
ible, but a strange anomaly, who has got 'no influence over
some one. Then exert that influence for good. We do not
put the temperance enterprise in the place of religion. No,
no ; never, never. Religion is a flood of light, emanating
from the throne of infinite love ; temperance is a beam of
light, coming from the same source, and we mingle their
lights together. Wc believe that this temperance question
may be made the handmaid of Christianity, and therefore
we advocate it. The total abstinence principle may save
me from drunkenness ; it may not save me from theft, though
it is probable it will, for I believe most of the theft in the
land is produced by the influence of drink. It may not save
a man from being the bold, brazen-faced blasphemer ; but it
must save him from becoming a drunkard, and I would ra-
ther have a sober infidel than a drunken one ; and I would
rather have, allow me to say, a sober infidel, than a drunken
professor of religion. I consider that drunkenness is a
great moral evil, and a sin against God ; but not only that,
it is a physical evil that may be cured by abstinence from
that which produces it. And we believe that when a man
is sober, he is better prepared to understand and appreciate
religious truth, than when he is drunk, and I ask you. Chris-
tian professor, if we go up into that garret, with all the
stench of an infectious disease about it, and whisper to that
poor wretch that there is happiness for him if he will come
with us, and we bring him from his den of corruption, and

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place him at the threshold of a) church, sometimes we

bring him into a place of worship — but if we bring him no
farther than the door, have we not done a good work ? The
total abstinence principle^cannot make an infidel a christian,
or anunregenerate man a* regenerate man ; the grace of God
alone can do that ; but we rejoice in the fact, that thou-
sands have been made subjects of the grace of God, through
the direct instrumentality of the total abstinence movement,
in removing the great hindrance to their conversion. Oh !
that the young men of London would advocate thes :- princi-
ples. Are they wrong? Have I done wrong in abstaining ?
If not, is there one on this platform that is doing wrong by
abstaining ? I maintain that I have a right without sin to
abstain from anything I choose, whether it is wine, or beer,
or meat, or coffee, or tea, or anything else ; you cannot say I
commit sin by doing so. But with St. Paul I believe that
it is not only lawful, but good, to abstain from meat or drink,
or anything whereby my brother stumblcth or is made
weak. We believe, therefore, that we have Scriptural ground
for abstinence from all that can intoxicate.

Some say, "But you have got all sorts of people in your total
abstinence movement. It is not a religious movement."—
It cannot be made a sectarian movement. And I will tell
you one thing. If the ministers of the gospel in this city of
London, and the profei5sors of religion, would take up the
total abstinence movement, it soon would be a religious
movement, for they would make it so. And I will say this,
now we are driven to the position of defending ourselves, if
it is not more a religious movement than you say it is, it is
the fault of those religious men who stand aloof from it;
and it is very hard for men to say, " You've got no religion
in your movement," when they are trying all they can to
keep all the religion in the land out of it ; and the general-
ity of those who tell us we have got no religion in the
movement, are the very men who will not bring what little
religion th / have into it. But it is not a sectarian move-
ment. Shall I refuse to go and see my brother in distress
liecause I am a Congregationalist and he is a Unitarian, or a
Koman Catholic, or a man that differs from me in political
views or religious sentiments ? If he advances his dogmas
and doctrines upon the platform, where those dogmas and
doctrines should not be advanced, I will stand up and de-
fend my ground, and he may stand up and defend his if he
please, and " God speed the right!" I say. But it is quite

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Tidiciilous, in my opinion contemptible, tliis spirit of
excliisiveness. It is something like a poor wretched
dandy that was drowning, and a noble-hearted country-
man stepped towards him, and said, "Give me your hand,
my fine fellow !" " Excuse mo," was the reply, " I believe
I have not been introduced to you ;" and down he went.
Now if men choose to sacrifice th oir own lives for the love
of sect find party, they have no right to sacrifice the lives of
others ; and our enterprise is an enterprise that affects the
lives of others, as well as your own lives, your own influence,
and your own prosperity. It cannot be a sectarian movement ;
but wo believe that God is the author of it. We would not
ask him to bless it if we did not believe it. He is the author
of all good; and the trophies of our labors have been
glorious. Oh ! I have sometimes felt, if some of the young
men that look coolly on this movement could come with
me,an»I stand where I have stood, they would be melted down,
and cry from that mighty heart of theirs, I am ready to ab-
stain for the sake of humanity. I sometimes feel weary. I
sometimes feel exhausted. Last week was a hard week to
me. I was obliged give up a meeting on Monday. I came
last night before the public to speak as well as I was able.
I fei'l a little better to-night. I shall come once more before
I leave London. But, sometimes, these seasons of long con-
tinued labor, bring, and naturally enough, some sort of de-
pression. I feel sometimes as though there were dark clouds
before me. I feel as if the cause was not prospering as it
might prosper. Perhaps it is good for me, because at such
times, I try to examine my own motives in advocating it. I
try to look at the question in the light of eternity, and to
ask God to give me strength to advocate it, and not only
that, but to give me patience and prudence; and discretion
and meekness, that I may be able, not in the spirit of bigotry,
to advocate my principles, but in the spirit of love to all.
I bel?eve this is my intention. Sometimes when I feel sad
and weary I get encouraged by thinking of some scenes
which I have witnessed. I was once asked by Mr. Grant, of
Boston, to call on some young ladies who desired to see me.
I went to the house. Everything was very decent and com-
fortable, as if they had seen better days years ago. A young
girl sat in a chair, and just nodded to me as I came in, and
pointed to a seat. I saw she was affected. I sat awhile. It
was quite cold. I buttoned up my coat and then she spoke.
She said, " It is very hard, indeed, for a daughter to speak of

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litf

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a father's intemperanco, Lut what shall I do ?" My sister
agreed to meet you this day with mo, but she has sprained
an ankle, and is laid up. My mother has been confined to
her room for six months, and to her bed for some days. I
sent for you as my last hope. I felt as though I wanted to
see some one and tell how I have suffered. My father is a
good man, and would do anything for his family when he is
sober, but he is infatuated with the drink,and takes away from
us everything we need ; and now we are suffering for want of
the necessaries of life, or I would not ask you to sit in a cold
room on such a cold day," In one corner of the room was
their pianoforte, and another article of furniture looked as if
they had seen better days. She saw my look and started.
She said, " You may think pride and poverty go together.
So they do, and you cannot help it. Perhaps you wonder
I don't have my pianoforte sold, if we are suffering ?"' She
wiped away the tears, and said, " I can't sell it. My father
has asked me to sell it, more than once. He gave it to mo.
He brought it home on my birthday. I soon learned to play.
It is an old friend of mine. Mother likes to hear me play it.
She sometimes sits with the door open to hear it, and many
a time she has to wipe the tears from her eyes. It reminds
US of by-gone days ; but never shall J see those days again —
they are by-gone to me for ever. Oh 1 it is hard, but I cannot
sell my pianoforte. You know where the money would go
to. It would be only a temporary lespite ; for a week or
two it would give my father the means of intoxication. I
will keep it though I suffer." I spoke to Mr. Grant, and
some other friend, who sent them down some provisions and
a load of wood. Three days afterwards I went down to see
them again. The father was there, and we began to talk,
but I said little about Temperance. I was telling him what
we were doing in the cause, and how many cases of reforma-
tion we had had, and I spoke of my own case,and how rejoiced
I was in the prospect before me ; and in looking back upon
the past through which I had come, as if I had risen out of
the conflict with locks shorn, but face shining, as if I
had obtained the victory. Said he, *' Mr. Gough, have
you a temperance pledge with you ?" I said, " I have."
He said, " I should like to join the Boston Temperance
Society." I took it out, put it on the table, and he wrote
his name. While he was writing I looked at the girl.
Her eye was fixed, dilating, on her father, her face was
almost livid, and her lips seemed to be drawn tightly back,

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as if she were fearful that that last dash of the Jpen would
not come, which told that his full name was there ; and
when he stood up and said, " I have done it'.'' she made ono
bound across the room, and was in his arms in a moment.—
She laid her head upon his shoulder — she was a short little
creature — and I never saw a child twining its arms as she
twined hers, as if she would twine one arm twice round tho
father's neck. She laid her head on his breast and said,
" God bless you, father." She said, running to mo, '* I know
him. He will live and die a sober man. He will keep that
pledge." She said to her father, " Father, you asked me to
sell [that pianoforte. I will sell it to-morrow." She would
give all she had now, because her father had become a sober
man. I saw that girl die ; but one year afterwards she died
of consumption. It was first consumption of the affections,
consumption of all earthly hope, consumption of the system,
then came consumption of the lungs, and she died a victim
to intemperance, another to swell the mighty hecatomb
that will start forth yet, wiping the grave-dust from their
brows, in their tattered shrouds, and bony whiteness, to test-
ify against him. I stood by her bedside. It was good to be
there ; it was the deathbed of a Christian. Mr. Grant was
there, and she pulled his face close down to her lips, and
she whispered in his ear blessings on the temperance cause,
blessings on those who induced her father to take that
pledge, and helped him to keep it. And then they let her
lie for a moment, with her hands folded, and they thought
she was gone. But it seemed as if for a moment the blood
flushed in the face, the eye grew intellectual and bright and
flashing, and there was an expression almost as if she had
caught a glimpse of heaven and had started back in utter
astonishment and delight at the rapturous scenes there
opened to her vision. They propped her up, for she wished
to speak. Her father stood at the foot of the bed. Lifting
her thin fingers, almost transparent, she said, " Father, dear
father, you will try and meet me there, now. Now, fixther,
you will meet me there." Why now ? She believed that
no drunkard could inherit eternal life, but now she had
some hope, for her father was not a drunkard. That ^irl
died in the very attitude of pointing up. She is in .heaven.
Her father is a devoted humble Christian.

These are some of the results of our movement and we
believe that, looked at in tho light of eternity, they are
good, and we believe the seal of God's approbation is

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stamped upon our enterprise, and wo can recommend it to
Christian young men as an aid and an influence to bo ex-
erted to stem the fearful tide which is a hindrance to the
spread and reception of spiritual truth. We can recommend
it as a safe principle to all the young men of the city, and
thus we do recommend it to you, and ask you carefully,
seriously, and prayerfully, to investigate these claims to
your sympathy. When 'you do that, wo shall have ycur
sympathy as sure as you have got a heart in your breast.

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OUR DUTY IN REGARD TO THE INTEMPERATE.

J. B. GOUGE'S ORATION,

Delivered at Exeter Hall, on Thursday, May llth, 1854.
LORD ROBERT GROSVENOR, in the Cuair.

Ladies and Gentlembn. — I feel, in standing before this
immense assembly to-night, that there is a heavy weight of
responsibility resting upon me ; for my object is to say some-
thing, if I may be able, to enlist the sympathies of those
who are here in belialf of the enterprise I advocate — to say
something to do away with the prejudices that exist in the
minds of some in reference to this movement. Our noble
chairman has said, that he was charmed witli the eloquence
of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and his mighty intel-
lectual power. I do not expect to give you a literary enter-
tainment or an intellectual feast ; I cannot bring before you
the stores that 1 might have garnered up from the mighty
storehouse ; through an education, which, I am so • j to
say, was sadly neglected, I cannot bring from those stores
that which would please you. I come before you, I believe
honestly, to speak freely, fairly, fully and fearlessly, my
opinions in reference to the subject that has brought us
together.

Some persons have said to me, '• Oh ! the Temperance
cause is dead in London." Dead 1 is it ! Does this look
like death to-night ? Ah ! my friends, the temperance
enterprise was born in the church of Christ; and that
which was born there never can die — never ! I was here
last winter; and if I had gone through your parks, and
said, *' Why do you have dead trees here ? Take them
down and plant living ones," I should have been told
" "Why, the trees are not dead." " But they are dead ; there
is no green leaf, there is no bud, there is no blossom upon
them; they are dry and barren and black. Take them

138

down and plant living trees." " But they arc not dead, sir ;
the sap is in them, and by-and-by the warm spring will
come, and the rains will water the roots, and the sun will
shine upon the branches, and then they will bud and blos-
som and leaf out ; and in tho sultry day, when the tree-tops
stand still and look up to heaven as if it were asleep, and
they were loviug it, you may walk under the shade and
enjoy the cool refreshment. So it is with our temperance
tree ; sometimes it is winter time with us ; but the sup is in
the tree, and I believe at the present time it is spring
with it; the warm rain of public sentiment is watering
its roots the warm sun of woman's influence is shin' '^
upon its branches, and it is budding and blossoming
leafing out, and cheering the vision ; and by-and-by
tree-tops will be so full of foliage, that they will touch the
earth, take root again, and spring up like a banyan tree.
We have hope in our enterprise, and we look into the future
with rejoicing, when we view the triumphs of the past.

But I said my object was to say something to enlist your
sympathies in behalf of the enterprise. Wo want help ; we
want aid and co-operation ; wo do not want simple assent
to our principles. I spoke last night of the great aim of
the temi^crance enterprise in building a barrier between
the unpolluted lip and the intoxicating cup ; and I have
spoken so much on that point that you willallowme, if you
please, to speak more fully in reference to another ; and that
is our duty in regard to the intemperate.

We have been in the habit of looking at the drunkard
with scorn and contempt — of passing by him almost as a
thing unworthy of love or pity. We have looked at him
not as a being robbed of certain qualities by the power of
an evil habit, but as a man who never had those quali-
ties. We have spoken of him as a brute ; and indeed it is
sometimes hard to read in your newspapers of brutal hus-
bands who have beaten their wives whom they have sworn
to love and cherish. I have spoken harshly of them my-
self. I remember being in the Lunatic Asylum in Indian-
apolis, the capital of Indiana, when a minister of the
Gospel pointed out to me a young girl. A more beautiful
girl I think I never saw in my life ; but she was raving
mad, and her hands were confined, to prevent her from
tearing herself to pieces. The minister said " That
girl was a member of my church, and I believe she was a
Christian. Her father was a drunkard. She would come to

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an-
thc
iful
ing

me and ask^ " What sliall I do 7 What chu I do? I will do
anythin;; to aavo my fjitlur ; but I am hopi'loss. Why, sir,
he abnses my ii other ^o brutally that I shall go mad. 1 will
not b-ave her ana one will not leave ray father," One day
that man came home raving mad with drink ; he seized his
wife and dashed her to tlie earth, and with his- fist began to
beat her upturned face till his hand was bloody to the wrist.
The girl was there. What did she do? What rould she do?
It was her mother whom she saw thus abus':d. Her brain
reeled, and kIu; rushed into a woodhouse, and seizing an axe,
dashed it into her father's body seven times ; and the doctor
said there was not a blow but vf< ild have killed him. And
as her father fell dead she went mad ; and not a sitigle gleam
of light has penetrated the thick darkness of her mind from
that time to this." When I saw in his description a man
beating the f<u c of u woman whom he had sworn to love
and cherish, 1 own 1 felt indignation in my heart, sending
the hot blood to the tips of my fingers. Said I, " It served
him right, the miserable brute. I am glad she killed him 1"
" StoD, sir,'' said the minister, I am sorry to hear you say that.
That man when sober was a tender-hearted man, and one of
the kindest men I ever knew. He was a noble-hearted,
generous man ready with his means to help the distressed; but
when he was drunk he was a fiend." When we speak of tho
brutality of the drunkard, let us raise a voice of indignation
and condemnation ngainst the caur-c that brutalizes men
more than any other Instrumentality. Oh it is pitiful to
see the brulali/iuL'' influences of the drink made manifest

among us.

Now I am not presuming to say that refovmcd drunkard is
a bettor man than others ; but I say this — that the drunken
man and the sober man stand on a par, with regard to their
warmth of heart and their keenness of sensibility. Do not,
please, misunderstand me. I do iiot say the man is better
naturally, who becomes a drunkard, than the man who con-
tinues sober ; but I do say, there is no power on earth that
will make a man a fiend, that will dry up tho fountains
of his sensibility and make him a brute, so quickly as the
power of the drink We believe that we should have little
brutal treatment of wives, but little revolting crime in this
country, were it not for the drink. Our noble chairman has
said, with rtferonce to the Chancellor of the Exchequer pro-
posing a tax on malt and spirits to raise the required sum
for the prosecution of the war, that if IMr. Gough persuades

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thti working men to give up beer and npiritp, the Chancellor
will not be able to get the money. 1 affirm that if the beer
houses and spirit ehops were closed to day, the expenses for
parperism and crime would decrease in one year more than
twice over what would be required to make up the deficiency.
Some of you may say, " What can I do to rescue a drunk-
ard ?" Help him by sympathy ; help him by experience
and confidence. Yes, but he will abuse my confidence.
What if he does? I would rather that nine hundred and
ninty-nine men should abuse my confidenc*j once a year, as
long as I live, than that one should perish for want of that
confidence. Ah 1 place confidence in him ? I have done it
to some, and I have been rewarded. God has enabled me to
gpeak a word of sympathy to those that I knew needed it as
much I did ; I have placed confidence in them, it has been
abused, I have been cheated, I know all this very well ; but
skail I hesitate to place confidence in one man, because it
has been abused by another? No, it is a word of sympathy
an expression of confidence that will help. Now, suppose
wo have got thu man as far as to sign the pledge some will
think we have done enough. The man who has signed the
pledge, has simply declared war against his old enemy; but
he has got to fight out his battle, and he needs help in the
struggle. He is weak ; he is enervated by the position in
which he has been laid pro.^trate by his enemy ; he has to
stand up alone, — single-handed, to fight, and he needs help.
The next morning after I signed thi pledge it was a hard
struggle — a struggle against the racing thirst in my system
—a struggle in the weakness of the man who has been fet-
tered and bound, and has only jiint burst the thongs, and his
enemy is upon him again, and brings him prostrate to fasten
the gyves again upon his wrists 1 felt I should die in that
struggle. I felt there was but Oho of two tilings for me to do,
either to stick to that pledge or to give it up and on either side
it seemed as if there was death. But the thoughtcame into
my mind, " What will my friend say who got mo to sign the
pledge, if I should break it ? It would grieve him, and I will
struggle on awhile " In the midst of my struggle, I felt
mj own weakness, and almost hesitated whether T could or
could not continue the terrible fight. A gentleman came
into the shop, a lawyer by profession, a man who stood much
higher in the social circle than I did, or ever expected to
do. Ho came without introduction — he did not wait to be
introduced — and said, " Mr. Gough, isn't it "^ Ah I how do

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you do 1 I am very glad to see you this morning-. I sarw
you put your name to the pledg>; last night, and I was very
glad, indeed, to 8«fe you do it. Now, did you see some yonng
men there who followed your example?" I waK thunder-
struck. "No," said I,»'I did not sue anybody follow my
example " *< But they did, and it was a good example too.
Now, I hope it will be the means of doing us a great deal of
good. My office is on the exchange, along by the Post OflSce.
I shall be happy to see you wh« n you have time to step in. I
am in a hurry this morning, but I shall be pleased to make
your acquaintance." He then went away, and I stood and
looked after him. It did not cost that man much to come
there ; he did not go far out of his way ; there was nothing
derogatory to his dijfnity to do it ; he did not stcop to do ifc.
No ; no man who lifts his har.d to save his brother stoops to
do it, but he takes a step higher. I tell you it gave me
strength. I was ready tben to fig'.it the battle, and I have
fought it with all my might.

1 have my sympnthy for the poor and fallen. Some say
" Yen, but Ihcy have bioupbt it upon themselves." "Judge
not, that ye be not judged : for with what measure ye mete
it shall be measured to you again." What would become of
you if he who was set before you as a pattern, should judge
as you judge ? " Let them alone, they are polluted, depraved,
debased : the jaws of hell are ready to swallow them up ; let
them alone ; thev have brought it upon themselves." What
a horrible sight would this world present to the angels, who
should look down upon it, left In despair and hopeless, be-
cause they brought it upon themselves 1 But oh t he man-
ifested his love for us, in th it while we were yet sinners he
died for us. Oh 1 look at the fooi of the hill — who is that,
toiling beneath the burden of his cross, the crown of thorns
piercing bis temples, and the drops of blood mingling with
the peisp ration Htreaining down his face? See him there,
lifted between the h< avens and the earth, between two
thieves naihd to the accursed tree! Not one groan, not
one moan of anguish, not one cry but this — " Eloi, Eloi,
lama, sabacthani-" " My God, my God, why hast thou
forsaken loe ?" Angels were looking upon that scene, and
and devils wen; trembling, as that scene was passing.—
For what ? For me — for you — who brought all our
sins upon ourselves ! Oh I the drunkard is your brother-
he is a man. In that day for which all other days were
made, he will be judged with you. Look upon him, then.

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148

aa a brother — (i weak-minded brother perhaps, but a bro-
ther. If you have what some are pleased to call self-
control, if you lave a strong physical frame, if you have
have a toui;h nerve, so that you can do what he cannot,
will you not abandon for his sake, that which may be
lawful for you? Bring him up, stand by his side, sustain
and support him in his resolution.

But some will say, "The grace of God can do his work
without any of these extracrdinary means." Now, I look
upon drunkenness not only as a moral evil and a sin
against God, but as a physical evil. Drunkenness is pro-
duced not hO much by an excess in the quantity drunk, as
in its effect on the brain and the nervous system. Set
two men, one on one side of the tabic, and the other on
the other ; one may be a man mighty to drink — " a man
of strength to mingle strong drink,'' whom the world calls
a moderate drinker ; he will sit and drink his bottle of
wine, and will go to his business, and no one dares to call
him intemi-arate ; he has not drank to excess; there is
no manifestation of excess about his person, in his talk, or
his walk. The other man drinks half a bottle, and goes
away staggering, and men say, " Well, there's a poor
drunkard 1" and fathers will point out that man to their
children, and say, " Sec what excess of drinking will bring
a man to !" Who has drank to excess — the man wlio drank
the one bottle, or he who drunk only half a bottle? What
is called moderation in one man is madness and death to
another. You may call that man weak-minded if you
please. I stand here to-night, and say, I cannot drink
moderately in the common acceptation of the term. There
are gentlemen in this room who would drink me mad in
forty-eight hours:, if I followed their example glass for glass,
and if I continued it f c r thirty days, I should be a dead
man. " Oh ! then you are a weak-minded man !' Suppose
I am ; my soul is worth as much as yours ; my capacities
for enjoyment are, I think, as large as yours I enjoy life,
and, thank God, since I have been a teetotaller. I know
what pure thoi^gh hearty enjoyment is. If I am weak-
minded, God gave me that mind, if I am weak in the brain
or in the nervous system, God gave me that nervous system.
There stands your brother, your friend ; your moderation
■will kill him ; therefore you cannot say that your modera-
tion is a good example to him, for he cannot follow it.
Looking, then, upcu drunkenness as a physical evil, we say

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that it can be removed by human agency. You aro perfectly
willing to use human agency to remove other evils. You
have your ragged schools, and now ihev are talking of
building ragged churches. Now my doctrine is, instead of
buildijg ragged churches — to do away with rags altogether,
although my sympathies are with every instrumentality for
ameliorating the condition of my follow men. Because
drunkenness is a physical evil, while at the same time it is
the great hindrance to the spread and reception of religious
truth, it stands more as a bar at the door of our churches
than any other influence ; we call upon Christians to help
us to roll back the tide of drunkenness by a mere human
agency, and we can ask God to bless that agency.

Now if you please, as this is the last time I shall have
an opportunity of speaking in London, for a long time-
though if my lifo is spari^d 1 shall again by-and-by, I hope
— let me refer to another point which has been brought to
my mind by seeing a hand-bill on the stairs, requesting
the ladies to sign a petition to Her M.ijesty, to exert her
influence for the closing of public houses on the Sal bath
day. This closing of the public houses on the Sabbath
day reminds mo of another point — that of closing them
altogether. You may say that is an Utopian scheme. Per-
haps it is. So they said when men advocated the abolition
of Slavery altogether in Great Britain and her dependen-
cies. We are working for it; and we are working it on
this ground among many others — for protection to the
drunkard .ind those who arc concctcd with him. Moral
suasion will not effect the object. I heard a young man
in a rail-way carriage tell us his own story while conversing
on this subject. Said he : " My father was a drunkard for
years ; ray mother was a strong-minded energetic woman,
and, with the help of the boys, she managed to keep the
farm from debt and mortgage. When my father signed
the pledge, that which pleased her most, next to his having
signed it, was that she could tell him there was not a
debt or mortgage on the farm. My faiher used to drivo
into the city, about eight miles distant, twice a week ; and I
recollect my mother saying to me, ' 1 wish you would try
and persuade your father not to go any more. We don't
need that which he earns; and, George, I am afraid of
temptations and old associates.' 'Oh,' said I 'don't
think of it ; father's all right.' Well one evening we
had a heavy load, and were going towards home. It was

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evening, and my father stopped at one of his old places of
resort, and gave me the whip and reins. I hitched the
hors'is, tied np the reins, and went in afterwards The
landlord said, ' I am glad to see you: how do you do?
Upon my word you are a stranger. How long is it sinro
the temperance whim got hold of you ?' 'Oh, about t-.j
years,' said my father. 'Well,' said the landlord, 'you
see we are getting on here v^ry well,' and they chatted
together for some time. By-anrl-bye he asked my fiither to
take something to drink. ' Oh no,' saiti he, ' I don't drink
now.' • Oh, hut I have got a little temperance bitters here,'
eaid the landlord, • that temperance men use, and they ac-
knowledge that it is purifying to the blood, especially in
"warm weather. Just try a little.' And he | onred out a glass
and offered it. T stepped up, and said, * Don't, dont give my
father that.' Then he had got just wiiat he wanted, and he
said, ' Well, boys aren't boys hardly now-a-days ; they are to
got to he men amazingly early. If I had a boy like you, I
think I should take him down a little. What do you think
Mr. Meyers? Do you bring that boy to take care of you?
Do you want a guardian ?' That stirred the old man's
pride, and he told me to go and look after the horses. He
sat and drank till ten o'clock ; and every time the land-
lord irave him drink, I s id, * Don't give it him.' At last
my father rose up against me — he was drunk. When we
got upon the waggon I drove. My heart was very heavy and I
thoutrhtof my mother, oh how will she feel about this ? When
we gt)t about two miles from home, my father sdd, ' I will
drive, ' No, no,' said I, ' let me drive.' He snatched the reins
from me, fell from the waggon, and before I could check the
horses the forward wheel had crushed his head in the road.
I was till midnight getting his dead body on the waggon. I
carried him to my mother, and she never smiled from that
day to the day of her death. Four months after that she
died, and we buried her. Now," said the young man,
after he had finished the story, " that man killed my father ;
he was my father's murderer. I saw him in the city a few
weeks ago,and do you suppose I could hold my tongue when I
saw him? I said to him, '3'ou infernal scoundrel, you villain;
I will take you by the throat, I cannot keep my hands from
you.' " What did he say ? " You touch m ; young man, you
dare to lift the weight of a finger upon me, I will take the
law of you in a minute 1" Ah ! yes, if he had laid his hand
jipon him, he would have been fined for an assault upon the

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murderer of his father, and he would have had no rcdresg.
There is not a publican in London but can take your brother,
your father, your son, into his dram-sliop, to-night, and
make him drunk in spite of your entreaties and your prayers,
and then kick him out at midnight, and you may find his
dead body in the gutter. All you have to do is to take the
dead body and bury it, and say nothing about it; for you
have no redress no protection. Now protection is what we
want. And who is it that cry out loudest, and that have
worked the hardest for the Maine liquor law ! I say the
drunkards. At Burlington, during an election, a man who
was half drunk, said to his friends, "Here give us a lift. I
go for knocking the heads of the barrels in, and for letting
the liquor run in the street. If it wasn't for temptaiions at
every corner I'd be a decent man. Come and help us.
Hurrah for tho M^'ne liquor lawl I expect I shall be too
drunk to be here tais afternoon, and I have come to help
you now." And who are they who are opposed to the pro-
hibition law? I know some, and I will tell you the reason
of their opposition by relating an anecdote that was told,
me in the west. A man who had stolen some bacon, went
to a lawyer to defend him. The lawyer said, he thought it
was a bad case and he would not take it. However the man
prevailed on him to get up a defence for him. In court,
five witnesses swore that the man was the thief, and that
some of the bacon was found in his possession. The lawyer
could only say a few words about the man's wife and family,
but the prisoner seemed perfectly easy. The jury then re-
turned a verdict of " Not Guilty." *' Why," said the lawyer
to his client, " How is this ? This is the most flagrant out-
rage I ever heard of; there must be something behind the
scenes, which I do not see." " Yes," said the client, there
is, and I don't know as I mind telling you — there was ten
of that jury had some of that bacon !" Now there are so many
that have had some of the bacon, there are so many interests
involved in the liquor-business that it is diflicult to over
turn it. Ours is a war against property in behalf of human-
ity, Some people seem to feel as if property was worth more
than humanity. We are waging war against an immense in-
vested capital, I grant you ; but invested in what? Some
men say they have a right to engage in what business they
choose, and do what they please with their own. No, they
have not. Some say you are interfering with the liberty of
the subject if you prevent a man investing his property as

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146

he chooses." A man cannot do what he pleases with his
own. Suppose a man lias got a vacant lot in the Strand :
he has got the title-deeds, and the property is his own as far
down as he can dig, and as high up as he can build. Sup-
pose he has got a cow or a horse that is his property too—
he owns them from the horns to the hoofs — they are his.
Well, suppose that horse or that cow should die in the
middle of July— it is his property dea^l as alive. But sup-
pose that he draws his property here, on to his property there^
in the middle of July, and leaves it there. You say to him,
" Look here, my friend, here is a perfect nuisance." "Mind
your business ; it is my property, and I have a right to put
my property on my property." " No, you have not." " Why,"
"Because it is injuring your neighbors."

Interfering with the liberty of the subject! Suppose you
have been in a phice where the plague is raging — you pur-
chase a cargo, anil invest in it everything you have. It is a
perishable cargo and you say, " If I can land it in fourteen
davs I shall make my fortune; if not I am a ruined
man." The health officers come on board your ship and put
it under quarantine for thirty days. You say, " But every-
thing I have is here and 1 shall be a ruined man if I do not
get into port in fourteen days." " Your's is a hard case,
sir, but we cannot help it. Your cargo must remain
here till the quarantine is up. We cannot let your cargo
out into these storehouses. You must be a ruined man. It
is for the sake of others, it is for the sake of yon city. Y'ou
are not allowed to bring in a bale of rags in which the
plague may be lurking." But here are your places all about
you, your smoky fires, and simmering still, and noisome
vapors, manufacturing out of good healthy, nourishing grain,
an instrumentality that tends to debase, degrade, and im-
brute ; and we are warring against that species of property
for the sake of humanity, and we want you to help us.

In the United States we found that nothing would do
but entire prohibition. In a certain town, I was asked if
I would tell some circumstances if they would relate and
back me up as to their truth. So 1 said to the people, some
of you may he surprised to learn tnat licenses are universally
granted in this town when the people, by a majority of
500, declared they would have no licenses. I can let you
into the secret, and I will tell you a fact or two that occur-
red here. One of the judges was one day asked why he wag
in town. He replied, (he was a Dutchman) "Ob, I comes

147

to town to-tay on de tavern business— de liquor. Ve
gets a good dinner, and vo ;;ets de trinks for noting, and it
pays pretty veil." He then went into a shop and asked
for some brandy-and-wat' r ; it was given to him, but he did
not pay. " I ara," he sai'i, " one of the judges — you nnder-
sthands — I don't pay for liquor generally," and then went
out. A certain licjuor-seller, speaking to the judge, after
there had been a majority of 500 against the liquor traffic,
said, " What are you going to do?" "Oh," said he, "I
doesn't know, I can't give no advice at all." At last the
liquor-seller offered to bet with the justice that he could
not give a license if it was applied for, and the bet w^s
taken. Some time afterward I saw the sheriff of the place
and I said, " You look pale." " Ah ! yes," he said, •' I sha'
never get over it. It is my duty to perform the par' of
executioner, and I had to hang a man. I otYered 200 dollars to
any man who would do it, but could gut nobody. It has
broken .me down, and I believe death has struck me." It
was a horrible case too. A man had gone into the shop
of the man who was selling under the license grcanted
through the bet with the magistrate. The man went into
the shop sober, but got drunk, and then Avent out and
murdered that very magistrate and his wife whilst they
were in bed — for which he was hung. Thus the man.
was murdered by the hand of another who obtained the
fiery draught that nerved his arm to murder at the very
house which he had licensed for a bribe.

I cannot understand how a traffic like this can be
maintained. And there are other things I cannot under-
stand. Some of you say that we are fostering the spirit of
infidelity in our temperance movement. I tell you there is
more infidelity fostered and sustained by the inconsistency
of professingi Christians than by all the tectotalism in the
world. Now, I wish to speak in the spirit of love. It pains
my heart when I want to advance the interests of the
church, to find men who despise the religion I love, point-
ing me to paragraphs in the papers, like this — that a certain
gentleman is to retire from the pastorate with a public
dinner — "tickets, including wine, 10?. Gd." I say there is
no difference between that in the eye of the world and this
— that a certain actor, retiring from the stage, will be enter-
tained at such a hall, with a public dinner — tickets, lOs.Qd.
wine included. Now, in my opinion there should be a dif-
ference. When Jesus, our divine Master left his discipl«B.

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148

ho called them together and blessed them. When I go into
argument with those who profess not to believe in religion,
they point me out scenes that are enacted, as they say, almost
under the very wing of the church that we profess to love,
I say I cannot understand these things, and I believe the
day is coming when the church will cleanse herself from
these impurities If our enterprise is to be carried on to
its final ccnsumation it must be upon the shoulders of
God's ministry ; it must be aided by God's ministers and
God's people ; they are coming up to the work, and we re-
joice in the fact.

One more word ladies and gentlemen, and you shall be
dismissed. A word or two let me say to temperance friends
particularly. My address has been rambling to-night, but
if you can spare me five minutes more you may all ramble
yourselves in any direction you see fit. Let us feel, breth-
ren, that our cause is a good one. Let us elevate our stan-
dard, let us work as the good old reformers worked. -Think
what a glorious reformer was Nehemiah. You remember
when he heard of the children of Israel being in distress he
wanted to help them, and in his beautiful, sublime and
touching autobiography, he does not tell us: " So I went in
to ask the king's permission ;" no, " I prayed in my heart
and said unto rhe king ;" and that is the way he worked.
He prayed while he worked. When they came out against
him ho did not say : " So we set a watch and kept them off."
No, but he said, " We made our prayer unto God, and set a
watch." There it was again, working and praying; not
neglecti:ig the work or the prayer, but working and praying,
and having faith.

Faith in what? All our instrumentalities are very feeble.
I remember reading of a missionary who was crossing a
prairie to his destination. You know what a praiiie is.
Sometimes it is a hundred miles one way by seventy the
other. Often in September fearful fires occur in them, and
it is almost impossible to escape from them. When a party
discover a fire they save themselves by pulling up the grass
in a circle, and then setting it on fire around them, and that
carries the flame away, and they are thus saved. Some of
the party in question, cried, " Look 1 the fire is coming I"—
There was a ruddy glare, and the flames were approaching
rapidly. The cry arose — "The prairie is on fire I we are
lost, we are lost I The flames come twenty miles an hour.
We shall be burned, and our bodies will be left corpses here."

149

The wife clung to the husband, the mother to the child, and
they sftt in mutn despair. An old trapper said, " We must
fight fire with fire. Let every man, woman and child work.
Pull up the grass in a circle, larger yet, larger yet ! Every
one pull up. I feel the first flush of the heat upon my brow,
like the first blush of the simoon of the desert. Now bring
the fire apparatus." They brought it, and found they had
but two matches. Hastily they took one and struck it. It
failed. They had but one left, only one match, a feeble
instrumentality, 'i'hey felt it was the last hope. The
missionary, bar,ng his brow, and holding that feeble, slender
agent in his fing'^rs, said, "God help us for his own name's
sake. Help us. If it be thy will, help us." And they all
said, as their hearts prompted, '' Amen !" They kneeled,
praying, the fire coming on within half-an-hour of them —
And this was their last earthly hope. They prayed, they
believed, they struck the match, it caught fire, the grass
was ignited. Away it went from them in a circle, and the
little band escaped. Brethren, we are fighting fire with
fire. Our instruments are feeble as that single match.—
Where we put forth our agencies let us say " God help us ;
for his own name's sake, help us !" and by-and-bye we shall
be standing in the circle, while the fire rages harmlessly
around us ; we, and those who may be saved by our instru-
mentality. May God grant it, for his own name's sake, that
you and I may so work that the blessing of those ready to
perish may rest upon us. I say to you, friends and citizens,
gentlemen ot the London Temperance League, and neigh-
bors all, who have come to this and the many meetings that
I have held, for the present, farewell, I bid you, heartily and
gratefully, good night.

ARE TBEY ALL FOOLS WHO BEOOHE DHUSKARD8?

(

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ORATION BY JOIIX B. GOUGH,

Dfiivcrcd at thii Standard Theatre, on Thursdau Bee's, Au.i. ?>rd, 1854
G. CRUIKSIiANK, Esq., in the Chaiu.

I MUST confess that I hardly know how to begin. I have
been so intently listuninj^ to your President, that what few
ideas I might have had, si-eni to have evaporated, like the
spirit he was talk-ng about. But we will come right to the
qiieBti«>n atonc<^, if you please. We, in this enterprise, as
you all know, are waging a warfare against the use of
intoxicating liquors as a beverage, and it is a warfare in
which we hope to continue as long as we live, while the
enemy exists. Tiiose of u-»* who have engaged in this work
have engaged foi life. It is a war rf extermination. And
we do not make an attack upon the drinking customs of
society without giving reasons for our attack. We stand
upon the broad platform of uncompromising liostility to the
drinking u.^ages of society, and a determination never to
rest until the trafHc in intoxicating li(]iior, and its manufac-
turn, shall be totally annihilated. We set our mark very
high, I know, and some niar say ours is a Utopian scheme;
but we believe the day will Mt come when common sense
and the sound judgmi-nt of the piople will approve of the
doctrine of total abstin«-nce from all that can intoxicate,
and will come up with a strength of will and a force of pur-
pose, that shall crush out «>f txistence every instrumentality
that tends to debase aud degrade, imbrute and demoralize
a human biing.

We wage war against the omployment of intoxicating
Lv^uorsas a b^v.-ratfe, bt'cau.se it is utterly useless: no man
is bemfitted by the use of it, either morally, physically, or
intellectually. 1 know some are prepared to doubt it.—
They say, <' Ah I there is a good in it V I should like to

151

know what good. You cannot bring me a man in ihia
metropoli.s that by the uso of intoxicaling liquor as a
beverage has been in any degree benefitted.

But eonio men say, " 1 can do more work under the influ-
ence of drink, you know, than I can without it." Some
of our agricultural labourers say they can go through a
harder days work at haying; and some say they can lift
heavier loads, and endur ' more fatigue with it than they
can without it. Very well ; perhaps they can for the time
being ; but we have evidence upon evidence to prove that
this is a fallacy in the end. Lieutenant Lynch, who went
on an exploring expedition to the Dead Sea, on the second
page of his book says : — '' I took with me twelve sailors ; I
obtained from them a promise, a pledge, that they would
use no intoxicating liquor as a beverage. After enduring
fatigue, such as aeldera falls to the lot even of explorers, I
have brought them back again all safo and sound and in
good health ; and I believe I owe it to their entire absti-
nence from all intoxicating drinks." A man may be able
to do a little more work with stimulus than he could do
without it ; but every man who docs it in that way, whether
on the platform, in the workshop, on the stage, or in the
pulpit, docs it to the injury of his conBtitution, and should
take care.

Drink is useless as a medicine. 1 never saw so many
persons in my life using it as a racdicino as I see in Great
Britain. I thought at first that it was owing to the climate ;
but I find I can do quite as well without it. I have been
in this country a little morr than a year, and have travelled
nearly 11,000 miles, with not ona week's rest ; and I need no
such stimulus. I have sometiruos come to the conclusion
that some of the doctor's who proscribe this medicine, pre-
scribe it in entire ignorance of tlio character cf the disease
of the patient. Some physicians may prescribe it conscien-
tiously ; but I believe some prescribe it because they are
such miserable dolts, they oup;lit to send back their diploma,
they do not deserve it. They do not know what ails a
a patient, and so they will prescribe beer; and I believe
some of them are in partnership with some of the brewers
too, and they give beer just as I heard of a physician who
gave medicine. He was a regular stingy f-Ilow, and when
he made up proscriptions he had a big black bottle, into
which he used to put al! that was left. There was in tliat
bottle Epsom shUs, rhubarb, mercury, md all kinds of

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powders and drop8, ererything that he had prescribed, if
there was aaythiDg left he put it in the black bottle. Sume>
body said to him, " You arc very saving ; what is the use of
it ?" " Oh," said he, " when I find a poor fellow that has got
a complication of diseases, you know, and I don't know
what upon earth to do for him, I give him a dose out of the
black bottle." I believe some of these doctors don't know
what to do with their patients, and so they tell them to take
a little porter, or something of that sort, for it is a handy
thing to recommend. But wo are not waging war against
intoxicating diink as a medicine ; we are waging war against
it as a beverage, because it is utterly useless.

" But tbei; is a gratification in it." So there is. But
what is it ? It is the gratification of intoxication. You
say, " J don't get intox'.cated." What do you drink for ?
Take all the intoxlcatlrg principle out of a man's drink,
and he don't want it. A large wiuo manvijiacturer in
Cincinnatti, who iiianufactures tr-ns of thousands of gallons
of wine fnniuilly, says — Wo make three kinds of wine.
The first class we make out sf the very best grapes — care-
fully make it, and wi che L the f.rmentation at once by
process of heat ; that wine, you may drink a gallon of,
and you don't feel it in the head. Most of that wine is
used at communion service ; and physicians prescribe it,
because it is so good for the weak stomach of an invalid.
The next we make we let it ferment to a certain point,
and check it with sulphuric acid. The next we make of
all sorts of grapes and stems, and we let it ferment as
much as it will, and then put a little brandy \a it;, and
that is the wine we sell, because the people dou't want the
wine unless there is tho fuddle in it.'' Thac i*?- the grati-
fication men want. If there was no graafication there
would be no danger ; it Js the gratification that makes the
drink dangerous.

But there are so many, as your ChairmiVn has observed,
♦hfl,t looL upon drunkenness as a little thing. They speak
of it^ighJy. The best stories sometimes in our newspapers
are told of drunkards ; the most comical scenes in your
farces are those in which a drunkard is mo8t prominent ;
and if a person should want to make an aut.i^ncc laugh,
he could not do it more effectually then I y just disarrang-
ing his clothing, and arranging his hair, and putting on
an old smashed hat half way over his eyct!, and then look-
ing maudlin. Now, that is the way a drunkard looks;

153

and every drunkard that looks so is a man— think of
that, — not an animal . A man 1 And when I see a
drunkard, however he may excite my laughter for the time
being, I almost feci angry with myself that I have got mirth-
fuin<:B8 enough in my compontion, and a sutticient sense of
the ludicrous, to see the ridiculous points in that man's &U
titude, when I know that hu is a debased, degraded, im-
bruted man.

Now, whether drunkenness makes a man a gibbering fool
or a miserable bully, whether it make us laugh at his antics,
or the marrow in our bones turn cold at his outrages, it is
degrading, imbruting, debasing, blighting, blasting, scathing,
crisping, damning to all that is bright and noble and beauti-
ful ; and I would just as leave be a raving madman when
drunk as a gibbering fool that a whole city makes merry at.
Oh ! if we could get our young men, if wo could get our
noble-heart( d working men, if we could get our
sailors, (and there are as noble hearts beating behind a
sailor's jacket as ever beat in a human breast) — if we could
get our young men and our working men generally to look
at this point, and dash down the cup, it would not bo said
in Great Britain as it is said, "A working man once a
working man always ; a poor man once a poor man always."
I tell you, working men, the great curse to you in Great
Britain is the drink. Abandon that, abolish that, and you will
stand up free to rise ; and in this country a man may rise,
and rise from pure merit alone, to occupy a high position of
eminence before his fcUow-man, and positions and posts of
honor.

A great many persons are ready to say, young men es-
pecially — " But a man ought not, you know, to be such a
fool us to become a drunkard ; a man ought to have a mind
of his own ; a man ought to be able to drink a little to do
him good." But I do not believe the little ever does a man
any good. However, we will not discuss that point just now.
You say a man ought not to be such a fool. Ave they all
fools that become drunkards ? I tell you, the most miserable
set of wretches in the City of London are your drunken
literary men. The most miserable wretches that I have
ever found in my life have been men of education. I
never was an actor upon the stage ; but I did for about six
WLKs sing comic songs between the pieces ; that is all my
experience at any rate of stage life upon the stage ; but I
was at one time acquainted with a large circle of young men,

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154

and many of them glorious young men — some of them clas-
sical scholars, and not one of thtm thai I know was a fool.
In one city in America, I belonged to a club of young men,
and it was called, at one time, the Shakespeare Club,
because most of the members were theatrical gentlemen ;
and I tell you there were men of genius ther ) — and an actor
must be a man of genius, he must be a man of talent, he
must be a clever fdlow, for I tell you the public have taste
enough and appreciation enough to hi.ss from the boards a
man that is not a clever follow and is not a gcniue, and among
that class of men you will find some splendid follows as the
world ever saw, with naturil ability and genius. And some
such there were in the city in which I was; I knew them
well ; I loved them as I loved my own brother ; they received
me into their society ; and I will tell you that out of the
thirty-five or thirty-six that I knew there I was the least in in-
tellect and in mental capacity and power. 1 spoke in the
Melodeon in the city of Boston ; it was the first
temperance address that was ever delivered in that
building. I said, •' Ladies and gentlemen, twelve
years ago I stood in this bulklinrr, the last time it
was ever opened for theatrical performances. The play
then was, " Departed Sj)irits, or the Temperance Iloa?;,* in
which some of the best and most glorious pioneers a:id lead-
ers of lhi.i enterprise were held uii to scorn and contempt—
"Where I stand." said I, " was the Ftnge ; where that organ
stands was the scener}- and machinery ; where \o\\ sit was
the pit ; there- is the first, and there the second row of boxes ;
the third hu.: been taken away ; there is the door wliich led

dressing

room, and there is the door whiih led

to one

to another. This house is very little changed, but circuia
stances are. Where are they, the young mc^n that twelve
years ago associated with me in this lionse? Echo only
answers 'where?' I knew them, glorious fellows — one a
classical schola?", a graduate at Carnbridg(* University, a man
who had the most presence of mind under difiUulty of any
man I ever knew, a man who was the most intensely practi-
cal joker I ever saw in my life, a miin that nothing in the
world could daunt, a man who always, (as wo say) had his
wits about him '' I will give you a little illustration of it.
He was performing the {)art of M/.arro one night; und the
servant has to come in and say to him, " My lord, we have
just taken an old Cacique." Pi/.arro's words w»'re ihen to be,
" Then drag him before me." Instead of wliieh, the servant

155

said, " My lord, wo have just taken an old cask.'' I saw
Chnrhis's face twitch, as ho stood there a little. J>y-and-
by, folding his arms, as the audience had recovi-rcd from
their roar of lau.s^hter, destroying his point just there, he
exclaimed, " Roll him in^ and tap him!" The man could
always make the best of a bad bargain. I remember at
one time he had delirium tremens; they said it was brain
fever ; he had his head shaved completely bare, and there
were very few among his acquaintances that knew his
head had been shaved, lie had a most magnificent wig

manufactured, and he used to go round with us
drinkimr-houses as before. One

night

we were

to the
all ia

Concert Hall together and there was one young gentleman
that was to treat. He was one of those young men that con-
sider it a very great honor to treat an actor ; and that is a
great danger of theatrical gentlemen; for I have known
some myself who would walk, arm in arm with the driver of
a circus wagon, and think it a great thing if they could get a
peep at the performance, if they had to creep in under the
canvas, because they were friends of the proprietor ! This
young man was the one who had to pay for the drink. They
used to give very curious toasts sometimes , and one who
did not know that his friend's hair was oiT, gave this toast—
" Here's all your hair oil" your head, Charley, my fine fellow."
Charles was so exceedingly sensitive about the hair, that if
anyone had said to him, "Charley, you're sailing under
bare poles," he would have said, *' Now, don't, don't." He
looked so astounded ; as much as to say, " Did he mean any-
thing?" When he found that he did not, he pulled off his
hat and wig, and made such a face that I shall never forget
it. When tlu; other young man had finished his glass, he
set it down, looked up, laid went backwards, and presented
the most ridiculous appearance. Charles would mortify
hims(!lf, rather than lose a joke. But 1 said, where is ho ?
Dead ! Wlu're did he die ? lie died in a drunken debauch,
falling down a fiight of stairs, when endeavoring to find his
way without a light, he broke his neck, and scarce ten per-
sons went to his funeral. Where is another, a most glorious
singer, a man that kept horses worth TOO dollars, at Reed's
cstablisliment, at the liack of the Pemberton House, who
used to invite us to ride — and many a ride I have had with
him. to Rrighton, and Rrooklyu, and Dorchester. Where is
he ? Dead ! Where did he die ? He died in a horse-trough
in the stable where he once kept his own horses, and no one

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156

with liini, except a city missionary ; tlio thought that mad-
dened him, when the cold fingers of death were feeling for
his heart-strings, was — " My old friends have left me, and
there is no one with me to wipe the cold sweat from my
brow, Imt a city missionary, that I have scoffed and laughed
at as a fanatic ;" and he died, struggling in his wretched bed,
and cursing those who had brought him to ruin. I spoke
of another and another. And one of them, I saw him die.
He had not seen his twenty-third birthday; and he had
bitten his tongue through twice, until it grew so large that
he could not articulate, and he spat out the bloody foam
in his attcmi)t to utter words. He sprang from the bed,
dashed himself against the wall, fell back in quivering con-
vulsions, was taken up and laid down again on the bed, and
there he died. There v/as another one, who said to me,
^' I am longing to quit the stage;" he went on board a
whale ship, and going jp aloft while in drink, he ft;ll down,
and his brains were dashed out upon the deck. Another
one was found one morning drunk in a gutter, and only
had half-an-hour to lire. Oh! it is fearful 1 You say you
are not such a fool as to become a drunkard ; you have
self-control enough to keep yourself from becoming a
drunkard. There have been men with as mighty a mind
as yours, with as sharp an intellect as yours, with as bril-
liant a genius as yours, that have become drunkards. Let
me tell you, young men, one thing. We have got reformed
drunkards. Yes, we can point to hundreds and thousands
of men who have burst the burning fetters of habit, and who
stand up to day free men. Are they all fools? It requires
more manliness, more moral courage, more self denial,
more firmness of purpose, more decision of character, more
of an iron will, more of a stern determination, to break a
bad habit than it dues to acquire it. If they were such
fools as to become drunkards, they were men, and they
became reformed drunkards. Aye, it is easy enough to go
down the stream ; it is hard to row up the stream, espe-
cially when the wind is against you ; and many and many
a man ha^j comc^ up from the ditch, and worked his way
half-way up to the mountain-top, to the astonishment of
those who despised him in his deep, dark degradation.

Son)e men boast they have no appetite for intoxicating
liquor, and yet are positively ready to sarifice that which
they believe to be right and true for the sake of it. No ap-
petite ? Why, I liave seen men go into a dram-shop who

157

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looked as if they were ashamed to go in ; and the best thing
I ever saw a llquor-soller do in his business was in the city
of Boston. A young man passing by a dram-shop that was
kept in a cellar, looked duwn to see who was there, and
walked on ; he came by again presently, and looked down
again. Just as he had mustered up courage to go in, the
liquor-aeller met liim at the bottom of the stairs with a kick,
and said to him, " If you are ashamed to come in like a man,
I am not ashamed to kick you out like a dog." That man
might have said that he had no appetite ; yet there he was,
sneaking into the dram-shop, to get his drink, under the in-
fluence of an appetite he denied he had. An old lady and
gentleman — not very old either — were once riding home
from a Temperance Meeting, where the speakers had been
laying it down pretty plainly. They went along very quietly
for some time ; by-and-bye the gent!«'man said to his wife,
" Well ?" To which she replied, " Well ? ' The old gentle-
man then made a remark, to which the lady replied, ** Well,
I will if you will." Said the gentleman, "Agreed." "Agreed,"
said the lady, " we are teetotallers." " We are teetotallers."
" When shall we begin ?" " At once." "Agreed." Goalongl
They went home. " Well, wife, we must have something
for supper; what have you got in the house? Any cold
meat?" " I believe there is no cold meat." "What shall
we have?" "Suppose we have some toasted cheese.''—
"Very well, w<. will have some toasted cheese." The
bell was wrung, and the servant came up. "Bring ua some
toasted cheese and ■ water." Supper came up ; and

they began on th^- cheese. Said the wifj, « Well ?'' The old
gentleman, making an effort to swallow the cheese, replied,
"Well?' "Well," said the lady, "its rather dry; what
shall we do?" " Suppose we begin to-morrow." The bell
was wrung, and the servant was ordered to bring up the
porter. But they never have begun to-morrow. Their con-
science was touched ; they thought they could get on easily
without the drink, but they did not. However, the old gen>
tleman goes now bv the nick -name of "Well," and never
will get rid of it as long as he lives. I think a man should
ascertain whether he has an appetite or not before he boasts
that he has none.

You do not t; ink it po8»ible for you to become such mis-
erable wretches as I know drink makes some men. There
may be some gentleman here sitting by the side of a lady he
hopes to make his wife. As you look on that fair face yon

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80 love to look upon, do you ever dream tliat yon shall dash
your fist in that face, till the blood starts from the mouth
and nostrils? No; but I tell you that drink may make you
do it. There have been men standing as high as you that
have done it; and we need not suppose; that all tlie wifo-
beatingand brutality is brought up in our police courts. Oh I
no ; there is many a lady who rides in her carriage, with her
footman behind her, confined to her house for weeks with a
black-eye given by an aristocratic gentleman. Sometimes
your city missionaries have a door opened before them to
reveal some of these facts. There are ladies that you look
upon in the streets as far above all suffering, that do endure
suffering, not only in this country but in ours.

Some of our reformed drunkards are as warm-hearted men
as ever lived, and as kind to their wives as any of you.
They are not naturally any worse than you ; but the
drink maddens a man, the drink seems to set on fire all
his devilish passions, and^ destroy the restraining power
that God has given him. It is the power of the drink
that makes a man a fiend. A poor miserable wretch came
to one of our Temperance Meetings, a hopeless case. His
brother was a miller, and he was engaged in business with
him. He used to abuse his wife so brutally, that she posi-
tively expected every time he came home that he would
beat her, and he generally did ; and when anybody said
anything to him he did not like, he used (o go home and
whip his wife ; and poor Sally, as she was called, was pitied
by all the neighbors. He came to that meeting and put i Iiaud
to the pledge. A child went to the uncle's, and said, " LIncle,
come down to our house quick," "What is the matter?"
** There is something the matter : will you go down with me ?"
They went down ; and just before they got to the house they
heard sobbing, and moaning, and groaning, and such a noise
that they did not know what was the matter. When they
opened the door they saw upon the floor Ned on his knees,
and his wife on her knees before him, with her arms round bis
neck, and tears raining down her cheeks. She said, " 0, Uod,
strengthen my Ned!" "Amen," Buid Ned, as loud as he
could. " 0, God, help him ; help him to keep his pledge!"
"Amen," said Ned; and that was the noise they ht^ard.
That husband and wife never knelt together before since
they were lorn ; but when the man came to his riglit mind,
and saw all that he had done to his wife, that he had abused,
that he had covered with bruises, and that had marks upon

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her person that she would cany to the grave, where his hard
hoot had gra/(,;d ht r skin, and his hard list had h^eu dashed
in her face, tlieru they were, kneeling togetlier and praying,
and " Amen," was tjje response tliat came fi'om his lips, as
lieaitily as it over came from tlie lips of a mortal.

I heard a man say — and I shall never forget it — " Oh I
what a time I had of it he fore I signed the pledge! I was a
poor mistrahle drunkard, and I had ntver thought of my
wife with any sort of kindness for years ; hut I had no sooner
put my name on the pledge, hut the first thouglit that struck
my mind was — 1 wonder how I\[ary will fuel when I teU
her 1 have signed it. Poor tiling, she is so weak and feehle,
.she will faint away ; and I did not know how I should tell
her. Wlu n I went home, there she was, crouching over a
afire, with lur fijigers over a few hits of embers. When I
went in she did not look up ; she nc!ver used to do ; some-
times it was a blow, sometimes a kick, sometimes a curse,
and her heart was nearly broken. She did not look up.
Thinks I to myself, Avhat shall do ? I shuflled with my feet j
she did uot turn round. I said, ' Mary ! Mary 1' ' Well !' ' I
think you Avork too hard, Mary ; I think you are getting a,
good deal thinner than you used to be, Mary ; you work a
good deal too much, Mary.' ' Work 1' said she, ' 1 must work,
what should we do? The children have no bread for supper;'
and she bowed her head. ' Mary, you need not work so hard,
because I will help you.' ' You?' ' Mary, I have signed the
pledge !' She got up," he said, "and she did faint; and as
that sweiil face lay in my arms I shall never forget it. Oh I
how I cried ! The tears seemed like boiling water down my
face; and f 11 spatter, spatter, spatter on the face of my wife.
The lids of her eyes were so blue, I did not know she would
come to again ; but she is alive and well, and thanks God
night and iiaorning for the temperance pledge. I have now a
little piece of land of my own, and mycliildrengo to Sabbath-
School ; hut I never shall forget how I felt when I said,
'Mary, I have signed the pledge.' " 1 hese are the men that
we call brutes and fiends; strip them from the damning
inilucnce of drink, and they are nifin with hearts as warm as
yours, and feelings as tender, and sensibilities as keen.
Before 1 sit down, let me say to you we want your help.

* ' ill this assemblv t(

peop

iglit,

every one of them the centre of a circle. Every one of you
has an iriflneuce to exert, and you must exert it, for good
or for evil ; you cannot help it. Let me say a word or two

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to the ladies: I do rejoice to get the ladies with us in this
or any other good work, because, you know we njed a great
deal of perseverance. We need a strong spirit of determina-
tion, and women generally have that. You know what an
old poet says— (the ladies don't like him very well) —

*' If a woman will she will, you may depend on't
But if she wont she Aront. and there's an end on't."

Now, there is a great deal of truth in that; not that
women are proverbially obstinate, but they are proverbially
persevering; and when they set out to do a thing they almost
always accomplish it, if it ia at all possible. Jn Nantucket
every dram-shop had been broken up but one, and the ladies
determined that that one should not exist any longer. About
150 of them joined together, and form.d themselves into
committees of twelve. They went to the liquor-seller\*s house,
and one talked ten minutes, and another ten minutes, and an-
other ha' £*-an-hour,and so on, and all twelve gave him a thor-
ough-going temperance speech. When they were gone the
poor fellow looked very serious ; said he, " That's about the
toughest morning's work I've had for some time ; I don't un-
derstand it; but, however, I find they can't move me, you
know." The next day a second committee came iu, they talked
to him all round, and when they were gone the i)Oor follow
said, "That's worse than it was yesterday; they're coming
thicker and faster; but I'm standing on my reserved
rights — they can't move me." The next day, a third com-
mittee came ; he saw they wore all different ladies, and
he said, " Hold on a minute ; how many are there of you ?"
" Why, there are twelve of us ; we are the third com-
mittee ; there are twelve committees,
have gone all round we'll begin again."
a man is to die, let him die in peace,
again, are you? Well, if you'll give it up
he broke up his establishment. Now, I don't mention this
to show particularly that the ladies have the gift of the

g. , have strong conversational powers, butthat they have

perseverance. And now we want them to engage in this
movement. I believe, if the ladies of this metropolis, if the
ladies of Great Britain, should declare, " I will drink no more
intoxicating liquor, I will give no more intoxicating liquor,"
the drinking customs would fall into disrepute in six months.
I tell you, it is the women of the country that can regulate
and control the social customs of the country. It is of no

and when we

"Hold on! if

You're comina:

I will." And

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«se for some younpj men to say, " T don't care what the women
think ;" you do, you do — you cannot help it. Iti^< nnndtural
for a man not to care what the women think. I know it ia
very fashionable sometimes to spi-ak ccmtemptuonsly of
women. 1 never heard a man sptak contemptuously of a
woman, but I think that he never had a good mother^or a
good sister, or a good wifi; ; for I defy any inin that ever
kneeled at his mothers side, and felt her soft warm hand
resting on his head, and who can rememl)er tlie little prayer
his mother taught him, to sp-ak contimptuously of woman,
I have strong faith in women's influence.

•' woman, lorely woman,
Nature made thoo to tomper man ;
W'q hud been brutes without \e ;
AiiKels lire painted fair t(t h»nk liue you ;
There'.-' in you iill thnt wo believe (..f heav'n,
Eternal joy and evei lasting love."

That may be a little extravagant; but I f^el that woman's
influence is almost unbonndrd. As a genthman told the
story at one of the m -etintrs in Scotland — that the husViand
said to the wifi*, <' Now, wife, you know I am the h» ad in
the house. ' " Well ' said she, " Yon can be the head if you
wish ; 1 am the neck." "Yes, said he, *• You shall be the
neck." «' But don't you know,' said she, " the neck t:!rns
the head ?' And yet, wiih all my r(^spect for woman-kind,
I say the women of England arr fi-arfully culpable, and they
are terribly responsihk- for much of the evil of drunkenness.
Now, what do you think of a woman whose husband beats
her; and a good glorieus teetotaler goes to her and says,
" Exert your influence uMd get your hu.sUand to sign the
pledge." "Well," Dr. ?iU«lge, "I should like to se(! my
husband do a good many things, but 1 should not like him to
sign the pledge exactly; for I n-ust liave my pint of
beer." What do you think ot su' h a woman? 1 think
the beer must have stuliifiid her better feelings. And I
have been very much shocked, in thi.s city and cotmtry
generally, to find going into publli -houses and sitting in p
public-rof)m young girls ^^ith young men. What can they
expect it to ccrne to? Now, doe.-< su. h a yormg girl think
what will be the result of sitting there with that young
man that tells her he loves her, and yet will ask her to
drink a glass of hot spirits and water with him? Does
fiuch a man love }ou? Oh! if that woman would get up

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and say, "If you oflVr mo that I have nn idea of the
estimation in which you liold mo !''

It may ho tiiat thoro aro soivants lioro, Soivanls arc
writing httors to me, and making complaint.s — of what?
One servant says — "I havo suffered teriihiy and cniolly
througli tliC (hink, and I am in the family of a prol'. ssiiig
Christian, and every ni^dit I am sent to a low ['ulijic-houso
for beer, and the language there is so horrible that 1 can't
bear it, and the temptation is so strong, 1 will go into any
teetotal family for half the Avagcs if I can get a place.
Now, any prolessing Christians that can (\i\vv to send any
servant into a low public-house for beei', ought to be
ashamed of themselves. You would not dare to send your
own daughter there ; and I say that if you dare to send a
servant girl where you would be ashamed to send your
own daughter, you are doing that servant girl a wrong,
andshe will rise in judgment against you. You may think
this is plain talk; but we aro apt to think that because
they are servants ihijy aro nobodies. I say a servant is as
good as I am. We are all brethren before God. You pay
that servant for her labour, and she pjiys you with her
labour for your money, and it is a fair ('(juivalent, and you
have no right to impose upon that servant by semling her
to a low public-house for beer. If you want the beer you
ought to go and get it yourself. I say there is a great deal
of responsibility resting with the women in view of this
terrible evil of drunkenness. And let me give the young
ladies here a piece of advice in the shape of a fable. A
mouse once fell into a beer-vat and cried to a cat that
was passing b}', "Mrs. Puss, help mo out of my difliculty,
if you please." "If I do I will eat you." "I would rather
be eaten by a decent cat, than be drowned in such filthy
stuff as this." A very sensible remaik; for a more horrible
death could not bo conceived. The mouse agreed that if
puss helped her out of her difficulty she might cat her.—
"You promise?" "Yes, I promise." So puss fished her
out ; and while she was preparing herself for the m< al, the
mouse darted into a hole, and just jjooped out. " Well,"'
said the cat, " I am ready ^o eat you now^, Miss Mouse." " I
shan't come." "Why not? Youpromisid me that if I got
you out I might eat you." " But when I made that promise,"
said the mouse, " I was in liquor.'" There is many a pro-
mise made in liquor that is not found to be binding by-and-
bye ; and I know of nothing that sliould sooner turn a young

1G3

j,nrl awiiy from liirn wlio promises to love licr, {irul cherish
her, uiul iJroteet her, and make lier his wife, than tlie smell
of iliat whieh intoxicates from his breath. I say, that our
yonn^ women liave power if they will only use it.

Lly friends of the 'rrniperance enterprise, let us persevere
in our work as if we meant it, and never mind the sneers
and ()pi)osition we may meet with. I heard a man say — and
I am very sorry to tell yon he was a minister of the Gospel
— that because he hear(l a sentiment advanced at a Temper-
ance Meetinu: that lie did not like, hi; went home and begaa
drinkinti: nj^aln. Tbat was just as silly as the boy that said,
" Mother, if you don't give me a penny, I know another boy
that's got the measles, and I'll go and catch 'em." We havo
to meet with many such conlemi>tible things. But the time
is now coming in which no man can take neutral ground
with regard to any ert<rprise; the time is coming when we
shall have a drawn pitched battle; and God speed the day,
when we shall go right at it, argument with argument, and
fact with fact, and logic for logic. We arc afraid of no bold,
open, manly opponents, for if we arc right we shall succeed.
And I tell you that we are gaining the influence of the
strong-handed and the strong-nerved workman. Why, scores
of hard-working mechanics, with as noble intellects as any on
the face of the earth, literary men, lawyers, ministers, are
aiding us. I know tl.erc are a class of men that stand aloof,
that never will come into the movement till they are forced
Into it ; but the public sentiment will by-and-bye force
them into it ; and the mighty stream will soon wa>h away
the banks on which they stand, and we shall all go on con-
quering and to conquer in this enterprise, because it is based
on truth and righteousness. Will you help us, brethren and
Triends? Will you help us, working men? To-night we
are ready to receive your names. If you never appeared on
any stage, to-night, it you appear here, and give your names,
it will be the test debut you will ever make in your lives.—*
We ask working men to do it; we ask these j'oung clerks to
do it; we ask these young shopmen to do it; we ask these
ladies to do it. Will you not? Will you not? We are
warring against drunkenness ; and is there not everything
in drunkenneps revolting to the purity of the female charac-
ter? We ought to have no trouble to get every woman in
the land to put her name to the pledge — to say, " I will have
no more to do with it; I will dash it from my lips, I will
keep it from my table." I wish I could hear you say, as I

164

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licard a woman say, coming out of a meeting, " If any youug
man has been tempted at my tabic to drink heretofore, so
help me God, not another shall, for I will remove it from
my table for ever." Oh I if we could bring the ladies to feel
thus, how gloriously would this enterprise go on !

I will detain you no longer. You may say, Ts all done for
to night? No; it is all to be done. It is all said ; but yon
arc to do it.

n
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WHO IS MY NI^IIGHDOUR?

AN ORATION BY JOHN B. GOUGIT,

Delivered at Fi nth ury C/iapfl, on Monday Krcninf^f Anjust 'th, ABoL
CHAilLES GILPIN, '-.sy., in tiik Chair.

Ladies and Gkntlkmex, — In s;)i nking to yon to-nif;ht on
the subject of tcniperiuna', I <l<) so w'tli sium; (Ii'tricr of huH-
itation ami tremiiluiisiiL'S^j, not alto^^itlicr usual with me on
such an occasion. I feci as if, liaviu'^ sjxtk n so ofti :i to tho
people in London, it must he to them v«iy niU(;h an old
story ; huf, as has be< n said by oth is, it must l»e tho same
old stoiy year after yt-ar. and \vr mu-i ti li the sami- truths
to the pc'Oph;, until thi- people act up to iliose truth . Our
enterprise we claim to he a heiu.vol nt urn- ; and I maintain
that all benevolence springs tV<uii the gospel. We te .d that
there is one great coinmandm. nt — '•Thoii shalt love tho
Lord thy G«'d with all tliy Ixjut, ini-ht. mind and S'r- ngt «;
and the second is like unto it, Thou shalt h>ve thy neighbor
as thyself: on these twi>," noi. on oni; or the other, ••hang
all the law and the proplu-ts :" an«l 1 miinuiin that my pro-
fessions <'f lovi- to God iin-not wo.ih astr;iw, unb ssthe* !> j^et
in me love to my luiirhhor. 'I'.ien the tpni-tion is, •' Wi o is
my ntighh(U'?" I will tfiUe you liy the hind, and lead you
through Seven Duils, and St. Gilts's, and Lumbeth, where
men on Sunday noon amt MlLrhtare' clin::inu liUe b.:es to the
doors of y«ur diani-shtij- ; 1 will point to the poor little
miserable ragyfcd cnildr n who fdbrv >uii begging, \. ho are
lying in wait to steal, and who are sent into the streets to
lie, and I will say, tluMe, and theie, and there are your
neighbors And what are you «loing for thtui?

Our enterj)risi', we m< iiitain, is calculated to remove one
of the frightful causes of suff ring to the innocent. Ladies
and gentlemen, if there; was no ( vil growing <uit of ihe use
of intoxlcaiing liquor, but the evil as it r. .sis like a cloud of
CUise up(Mi tht; innocent women and chiblrt;n of this country,
it would he enough to rouse the led-lioi indigna'ion of every
ma I, and send the blood tingling to the tips of the fingers
with fierce desire to battle with the insuumcntaliea that

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send so niMclj sMdrcrinir and so nuich cnid mis rv uiion tlic
innocent atitl uiiodV-tuliti'jr. T tell yon, ladii-s aiKl <^'cntl< im-ii,
wc arc wry luiuU in th^; Iial)it of asking, " Am 1 my iMotlni's
keeper?"' in n frrrncc to (his matter; and 1 le<l tiiat while
the evil of t'rnnkenncss is supported, a?id snstaine'l and per-
petuated hy c<r!ain causes, we are shiinUin^' from tlie re-
sponsihiiity of doin^' our duty, unless we wam- war aijain^t
tb(»sc causes, at wiiatever cost, or at whatever lia/.ard, if it id
right to ('o it.

Let us look for a moment at the suffering' produet'd by
drunkenness. You hear a giejit dal said ah^ul llnr mis'.iry
and vice of the lower orders of society. Wtll, I grant you
there is a great deal of vice. You njay go into yonr streets,
and see, standing at the corners, group of hoys, piK^itiNely
looking like old nu-n — with old men's heads, 1 might say,
on the shoidder.s of mere children — with fac( s from which
every line of beauty that lingered there has been swept
away ; you hear th'- oath, and the curse, and the word of
blasphemy until you shudder, and you say, " There they
are, lit candidates for our police courts and our prisons;"
and by-and-bye you lift up your hands, and are shocked at
the continual increase of crime. Let us look at the cause of
seven-eighths of the crime iti thiscountrv, and we shall find
it to be drunkenness. There is no power on earth that will
SO debase and degrad<,' and imbrute t'l human being as the
power of the drink. Can a mother forg(!t her sucking child ?
Yes, when she is drunk. Wu are warring agaiiist (he drink,
against the use of it as a beverage, against the drinking cus-
toms of society, and our cry is, ' Down with every instru-
mentality that tends (o promote and perpetuate the evil of
drunkenness;" and that cry is emblazoned upon our ban-
ners, and we have nailed that hanntir to the mast — " Prohib-
ition to the traffie in intoxicating drink." Some men say,
"You are aiming very high." Yes, wu arc ; but the fact is,
we shoot all th(! way up, so that if we lire liigh, we shall be
quite sure to hit everything, from the ground up to the
htghest point.

But let us hiok at (he moral degradation to which
children are subjected thiough dinnkenness. A geiith Uian,
writing to mo. says, "Instead of preaching total absti-
nence to the people, why don t you educate them?' Now,
I ask, how can you educate the children of the lower
orders of society, while their paren(s are given to drink?
Will that drunkard -who gets his five, six, seven eight, or

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167

ten sliillinprs a-woek from the lyin?^ ami theft of tliat child,
send tliat (.liild to hcIiooI ? We fouM<l in the United States
that it V ;is uttt'iiy impossihle to edncatu the ehil''run, until
there wa.s some arrangement madi; by wljich tlie parents
werc! ol>lig('(l to sind ihiir children to Kt;hool. I am not
spi al<ing ahont any compulsory sending ( liihlren to school ;
I believe in men doing very much as they please, as long as
they don't interfere with the happiness or the comfort of
other people ; but wc found it was of no use to attempt to
educate the very lowest class of cliiMrcn, while the parents
of thos(! children w(!re debased and digradid by thedrink.

Think of the sulTerings of all conntu-ted with an intem-
perate man, — not only of his children, but of his wife. I
have had many communications from wives of drunkards,
— from broken -ht^arted women, whose life is a burden to
them, — from many who started with as fair and as bright
prospects as many that are entering life to-day, and all
whose prospects have been blasted and blighted; and if I
could read you some sentences from those letters, you
would feel that they were prompted by a heart wrung
with sevi-re anguish. A drunkard's wife! what is she?
Think of it, you yoting women, think of it! Linked for
life to a man you cannot respect; tied to him by bonds
that you feel cannot be broken ! I believe in the judgment
day, the crushed, the bruised, the broken-hearted women will
rise up in judgment against those who have crushed them ;
and s|)eak out, in trumpet-tones, against those who have
folded their arms, and looked coolly on, and seen them,
trampled beneath the iron hoof of the destroyer, and lifted
no linger to stem the tide of burning desolation. The
history of a dmnkard's wife miiiht be traced in tears and
written in blood, and there would not be a man here with
nerve enough to read it.

I know some say, " Ah ! there is a good deal of brutality,
you know, a good many men are very brutal, even without
the drink." I cannot find, in any of the accounts of wife-
beating in the newspapers, an account of a total abstainer
being in the habit of ill-using his wife. I tell you, gentlemen,
I believe that if any one could bring up one such case
before a magistrate, it would bo sent broadcast over the
length and breadth of the land ; but it would be an ex-
ception to a general rule, would it not ? I leave it to you,
gentlemen ; I have said bt'fore, and I say now, that any
man that will Hog a woman is a coward. They are

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cowards alll But when a man is drunk, v.-hat is he?
His reason is dvtinou^d ; his mind it? bccloudud ; it seems
to nie as if the diink hiid power to set on fire or bring into
activity every evi! passion, and, ai the same time, to paralyze
the power that God lias ^iveu us, wherewith to battle with
our passions, and resist them. Among our reformed drunlc-
ards, we fiud many men who were what were caUed brutes,
—fiends, 'ueu whose childnn ran from them.

I shall never forget one liltle thing 1 heard in the Bclhcl
at one time. A sailor stood up and said he had been a reg-
ular brute to his wife ; he used to think nothing of coming
home and knocking her down v/ithont the sligljtesi provo-
cation. "But," he said, "my wife never used to cry; I
thought she never did. I positively, ladies and gentlemen,
have knocked her down, and she has got up and smiled at
it. I thought Sally never ciicd; I really thought she had
not got a tiar to ^ned ; Yui I drank and drank, and I abused
her shamefully. One night, after abusing her pretty badly, I
laid down on the bed and fell asleep; aud I had a dream. I
dreamt I was shipwrecked, and that a lot of us got upon
the spars, and there we all were, clinging for dear life, and
all were washed off but me, and there I was, tossing and
tumbling in the water, and, at a distance, I thought I saw
one of those little, nasty, sharp, short waves, — not one of
the long rolling swells, but it seemed to be a little spiteful
thing, that kept bobbing up and down with considerable
force ; and it glistened, as if there was a light gleaming
upon it; and it oamo nearer and nearer; and I watched it,
and it grew sma'ier and smaller, until it seemed almost like
a star, and the whole force of the waves seemed to dash into
my face ; and the water felt warm, and it woke me ; and
there was Sally leaning over me, and the tears raining down
on my face, and, for the first time, I felt she did cry, — and
such hot tears they were, they almost scalded me, 1 sprang
up, and on my knees swore to Sally, that I would not ill uso
her any more. And I never have done so.

Now, I ask, what does all this tend to ? We want to
enlist your sympathy. I might occupy you till midnight
in speaking of facts which have come under my own
knowledge. There are gentlemen here who can tell you
facts which have come under their own knowledge, with
reference to the deep, dark degradation of drunkenness.
But the question is, What shall we do about it ? I said,
we were waging war against the drinking usages of societv

169

Now, to look over this audience, one would not suppose
there was an intemperate man in it ; and, therefore, ydu
may say, What have I to do with this thing ? I do not
drink to excess myself ; I have never suffered, and my family
has never sulYered, from drunkenness. I said, at the begin-
ning, our cause is a benevolent one ; and we want something
of the spirit of benevolence that prompted an old lady in
Newhaven. A horse ran away with a waggon, and there was
a little boy in it, and she v/cnt screaming after it. Some-
body said, "Madam, is that your boy there?" "No," said
she, " but its somebody's boy, isn't it?" That is the prin».
ciple we want. Now, if we ask men to wage war against the
drinking customs of society, we ask them to make a sacrifice
— 'YC ask them to give up that which mjiy be to them a
gratification. Our cause would sink beneath the contempt
of those who despise it now, if there was not some self-
denial required — if there was not some giving up required of
those who stand on this mighty platform. Now, we main-
tiiin and we boldly and unhesitatingly say, that no man can
adopt the principle of total abstinence and carry it out
without its costing him something. I believe that the
natural disposition of a man is to relieve suffering when he
sees it, unless he stops long enough to count the cost, and
then it becomes rather dubious whether he will do it or not.
If you see a child drowning, you do not ask whose child that
is, and because it is not yours turn away and say, " I have
nothing to do with it." If there is a child in the fire, you
do not argue the same thing : — a ladder is raised promptly,
and the child is rescued, if possible. Now, we ask for the
same spirit of secret self-denying benevolence. You may
not get a great deal of credit for it here, but your Father
that seeth in secret will one day reward you for it openly
We do not expect to get our pay for it as wc go along ; there
is a rest, a rest from labor, in that land where we may reign,
if we so follow after Christ as we shall reign with him.

Now, there are, no doubt, some moderate drinkers here
— some who present intoxicating liquor to their friends,
and dream that they do no harm. Well, I suppose you
will say I am ultra, or radical, or fanatical ; but I lay it
down as my opinion, that no man or woman has a right to
give a friend that which may injure him. It is the middle
classes that I appeal to especially ; and in endeavoring to
break up the drinking customs of those middle classes, we
are really laboring for those below us. The working men of

'^.

170

IF;'

Great Britain have done a great work with regard to tem-
porance principles; but uLey cannot carry the enterprise on
to its final consummation. We want all classes engaged In
this warfare : we want ministers of the gospel and professors
of religion to join us. I say, th jn, that although there is
no intention, la presenting wine to a friend, to do him any
harm, harm is nevertheless done. A gentleman once told
me of a young man, a fine talented fellow, who had never
drank wine. He was a capricious fellow, and one of his od-
dities was a very good one : — he did not drink wine. He
used to boast that he did not know the difference in wine.
A party was given one day by a lady in whom he took a(!eep
interest. Wine was j)r(\sented to him : he refused it. She
asked him why he did so. He had no particular reason — ho
never did drink wine. He continued to refuse, till she laid
her hand on his shoulder, and looked him in the face as some
ladies know how to look — I could not look so to save my life
—and at length j)revailed upon him to take a glasi>. Six years
after that he called on a college class-mate for the loan of
half-a- dollar. It was granted, and his friend, going out a
little while afterwards saw a crowd in the street. He j)ushed
his way through the crowd, and there saw on a cellar-door
his friend, with his hat knocked pai tly over his eyes, and
his hair, wet and cbimmy hanging down his face. He tried
to raise himself on his elbow, gave a ghastly look at his
friend, and said. " SiC transit gloria muiuU^^ — and fell back
dead! Did that lady intend to do the young man an injury
when she gave him that first gla.-^^s of wine?

I find that those who give intoxicating liquor are the
hardest persons to get to sympathise with those that suffer
from it. A gentleman in the city of Troy told me of a
young lawyer, a notorious drunkard. He signed the tem-
perance pledge, went away and practise i in the west, and
came back with some ronsidenible property. He had betin
engaged to a young lady who professed to love him — as all
young ladies ought to if they are engagid to a young man
— and the marxage had been postponed on account of his
drinking. He came back sober, and a i»arty was given in
honor of the event. The young lady and the belle of the
evening made up tlu'ir minds tiiat they wo'dd get him to
drink some wine. They coax .d him, and vex(Ml him, and
provoked liim, and began to ridiruh^ him. Now, there arc
somt! persons you cannot move by argument or by reason
— you cannot lead thein, you cannot drive them, you cannot

171

coax them ; but they liavc got a soft phice, as every man has
somewhere, and the shaft of ridicule will touch it. It was
the case with this young man ; he could not resist ridicule.
In desperation he took the profl'ered glass of wine and drank
it. He was not sober for ten days. The cashier of the bank
kept him in his own house, and did everytliing he could to
cheer him up, for he was almost brokt'n-hearted, feeling
that he was ruined in his prospects. lie got him up and
dressed him ; and freed somewhat from th(! inlluence of the
debauch, he went to that lady's house, and he was rejected
contemptuously, and the door of her father's house was shut
in his face. In ten days from that time he was found in an
open field dead, having drank himself to death. Now, I say
that that lady either had no right to give him drink, or she
had no right to spurn him when he fell through the drink
she gave him, A man has no right to put temptation in the
way of his brother, or, if he does fall, he is bound to put his
arm around his brother and help him again.

Let me say a word or two to the ladies ; for their intiuence
is of great importance in this movement. I do not pretend
to say I have found out the reason why the ladies do not
wish to get rid of the drinking customs of society, but I will
tell you a story that was told me. A clergyman in this
countr}' was called upon to marry a couple, and the man was
so very drunk that the clergyman said, " I will have nothing
to do with you. You must come when you are sober. You
are miserably diunk, and net in a fit state to be married."—
He went home, and in about a week afterwards came again,
as drunk as ever, cr a little worse. '' Why," said the clergy-
man, " I told you before tliat I would not marry you in such
a state as that. CJo away with you, and come again when
you are in a proper state.'' About a week after that, the
clergyman met the girl in the street, and said to her,
" Young woman, you should not bring that man in such a
shocking state to be married.' "Lor' sir," said she, "he
won't come when he's sober!" I do not pretend to say, you
know, that that is the reason, but such a thing as that looks
a little suspicious.

I have known many instances in this country in which
the husband would be quite willing to adopt the principle of
total abstinence if his wife would let him. Now, I should
like to see my wife uudert<tke to hinder me from doing
anything I thought right. I don't believe in this doctrine,
"If your wife will let you." I am not what is called a

172

t!!«i

woman's rights man aHogcthcr. I do not approve of wonien
turning out to fight tho ilussianfl, or running about with
fire engines, or bitting in the halls of 'egishiture, or being
judges in our courts. 1 believe that wonun liavo rights,
however; but not one of them ou^jht, I think, to stand
between her liushand and what he tnlieves to be right.
Still, women liav«! an influmce. I thank (Jod to-night
that he has given me a wife who has some influence over
me; and I Koinctinies ft;! as if I owe a great dijil of wliat
I am by the grac (»f God, to the prudence, and the i)atience,
and tlie discriniiuation, and the faith, and the prayers cf a
God-fturing wife. The wife has an inllinnce to exert;
and it is a must astounding tliitig to me that the ladies of
this country look so askance at the subject of temperance. —
What is ther(! undignified in doing away with a miserable,
paltry custom ? It is time-honoured and old-lashioned,
certainly. l?ut wlien we consider what mighty power a
woman has lor ^ood or for evil, a word of sympathy from
a woman's lips goes a great way. Many and many a man
has been saved, I was going to say, through waking up to
the consciousness that some ten(b;r-li»aited, pure, glorious
woman felt in h<'r heart ot liearts for him who was debased
and di giaded. I remember a circumstance that occurred
after a lecture in a small town, when the people were sign-
ing the pledge, as they are going to do to-night-. as they did
last week after oin* meetings. SeV(;ral ladies had been
watching the proceedings with a good d-al of interest, and
one of them came to me and said, " Mr. Gough, I wish
yon would go out to the door and get Joe to sign the
pledge." I did not know Joo from Jehosaphat ; but I
went outside, and there, leaning against the post, was a
poor miserable-looking fellow, that [ thought must be Joe,
So I said, " How do }0U do, Joe?' "The boys have been
pelting mo with stones." " They don't pelt you with
atones when you are sober, do they ?" '« No, I don't know
aa they do." "Joe," I said, "y3u are serving a hard
master. I have served him myself. You are re\'v!:.,g
his wages, and I will tell you that you woulJ \)f'. ynucli
better off if you were to do his work and not huv : an/
wages at all ; but you need not serve him ^ny longer. «io
as 1 and hundreds of others have done; become a & '.h;^
man, and then the boy?^ won't pelt you ; come and sign tho
pledgt^." •• I have not got a friend la the world." ' I
know what that i.s, Joo ; for five years of my life I was lu

173

tbat position; but if you sign the pledge there will bo
hundreds of honest men and women that will be friends
to you. Some of those ladies inside sent me to you, and
told mt". to come out and get v<>u to sign." " Did they
though ?" " Yes they did." " bid they, really?" " Yes,"
I said, "come along, and you'll see;" sol pulled him by
the s'^ould.M-, and he went in and signed the pledge. His
fiugers WLnt 'n every dirocticn ; he could not positively hold
the pen. I wiote liis luunt!, and he made a maik ; and I
had to hold his hand whih; he made the jnark. The ladies
then came and shook hands with him. He looked as if he
had never shaken hands with a lady before in his life. A
year afterwards 1 nn.:i Joe in the street; it was ihc fashion
then to Wear a blue coat with biass buttons, and he had got
one; his hat was nuaily bruslu-d, — his boots more highly
polishtd than mine; gtiu rally are, and his trowsers were
Strapped neatly down ovir his boots ; he looked quite the
genib man, and had a lady on his arm. Said I to him, —
«' Why, Joe, is that you?" "Yep," said he, " thafs mo."
" You're going along linely, Joe, ain't you? How do you

do?'

" Yes." K.id he. " 1

..; aloii'.r '.!■: ♦tv well

,* You've stuck to yoin- pledge, havc'nt you ?" " Yos," said
he, ''and the gals have- stuck to me ever since." He is now
a useful and honorable numlier of society ; and the cause
of his rcfornmtion was the iVelin^^ that somebody cared for
him, and that ^om^•bo(ly was a woman.

Oh 1 you huvv.' mighty powir, ills the knowledge that
a man has got. a friend that seems to stir him up sometimes
to do dct ds worthy (»f a man to do And what is gnater
than to con(pier an appetite for drink ? " Greater is he that
ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city;" and a
man that, through a ^\old of kindness, or sympathy, fir
encouragement, can rule his own spiiit, can crush out of
existence, or bring down into a dormant state the raging
passion for d.irdx, has done a greater work, morally speak-
ing, than if Sir Charles Napier had taken Cionstadt, and
put the banner of the Jjiitish there. This is why we ask
you to help us to break down the drinking usages of society
among the middling classes and the richer portions of the
community, that you may have vn influence to txert upon
others. And, mark, I do not consider that you have aa,
influence to exert to the full, unless you adopt the principle
yourself that you would have others adript to save th* m.
A gentleman, the cashier of a bank, onoe said to me, " I
was a t;ood temperance man ; 1 drank wine and the lighter

./•

174

II: #
I 11

drinks, but I warrod against ardent spirits, and thought I
was a very hcnevolent man indeed ; I was a regular tem-
perance man ; I used to tallc on the subject, and go home
and take a glass of wine to cheer me up. A man opposite
to me was in the habit of getting drunk, and when drunk
he was wry abusive ; and lie had been in jail for it several
times; however, I thought I would go and reform him.
Said I, 'Why don't you join our Temperance fc'ociety?'
'Join what?' * Our Temperance Society,' 'Oh! well, I
could be just as good a temperance man as you are, and as
drunk as a fool every night of my life.' 'Why, how so?'
•f You drink wine, don't you?' 'Yes, I do.' « Well, if I
could aftbrd it I would ; I drink whiskey ; whiskey is my
wine, and wine is your whiskey.' To use his own expres-
sion, '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 I must have another;
you can drink one glass of wine, and go about your busi-
ness, and come back and drink another — I can't; if I were
as well off as you I might have all my arrangements about
me, and be as good temperance man as you are.' 'But
then our positions are different ; you had better sign the
pledge that you will not drink anything that will intoxi-
cate.' ' Will you ?' ' Well, in my case, you know, it is
not at all necegsary.' 'Ugh! I knew you would'nt; you
cora*j to me and ask me to do what you won't do yourself.
If I sign the pledge I must give up, you have only to give
up yourself; you can sign the pledge and drink wine and
the lighter drinks, but I can't afford it ; don't you think
you are a very benevolent man, to talk to me in that way?'
^Well, if I sign the pledge that I will not drink any in-
toxicating liquor at all, will you? 'Yes, I will; 1 will
dare you to do it.' They went into the Bank, wrote a
pledge, and both 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.' I saw him
two or three days afterwards, and I said to him, ' How do
you get along ?' ' Oh I' said he, ' I do not know how you
get along, Mr. Segur, but it is almost death to me ; but I
am going to stick to ii.' And that is the way I saved
him. I said to myself, 'If the other principle will not
save him, I will adopt the principle that will.'" And 1
flay that no man can exert an influence to save his bro-
ther, unless he adopts the principle which he asks his
brother to adopt. A minister of the gospel said to me—

175

"I took my Inothor with mo to a temi^eranco meeting,
and the result was, lie signed tlie pledj^e, and i.s now a
Christian man; hut lie has told me, ' Brother, if >ou had
asked mo to go to that meeting, and had not been an
abstainer yourself — had not shown sueh a respect for the
piinciplcs there advoeated as to adopt them, in^teud of
signing the pledge I should have laughed at the whole
matter; but when you asked me to go to that meeting,
I knew you respected the principles that were advoeated
there, and adopted then; yourself ; and when I sat by your
side and looked at you, I was convinced that tliose prin-
ciples ^^cre true, I felt that I could nut possibly resist, and
I gftve my name and influence.' "

Now, this is what we want — influence. You all 1 av '. \V I
know there are some person.^? that are uflKctod with a gn at deal
of modesty, and when asked to sign the ploiige 1 ha- e luard
them say, "I don't know that I have got any particular in-
nuence." Such persons would not likt; mo to sjiy s ). I ( ncc
made a man very angry: he said, " I don't know tluU I have
got any particular inll'ienco." I said, " I don't know that
you have." He got quite vexed because I agreed witli him.
Like the man that got up in cluu'ch and said ho had lived a
very hard life, that he had cheated and overreached piople,
but declared that it should not be so any more. A friend
got up and said, " I am very glad our brother has said that
it shall not bo so any more, for I can testify to th.:: truth of
every word he has said." " It is false," was th<j immediate
reply.

There is not such a thing on the face of the earth as a
man or a woman without influence ; but none arc aware of
the extent of their influence until they put it forth. Here
are some of us going along through life to the grave on
to the judgment, that are not doing one-hundredih part
of what we can do for the beneflt of our fcl low-men, but
are shrinking back and saying, " I do not know ti:at I
can do much." Suppose Elizibeth Fry had aiti tnat;
suppose VViberforco had said that; sup;!0se iioward had
said that. "I am but a weak, frail man or woman, and
cannot do much !" They did wijat they could, and God
blessed them in it. And it was said of one of old with
approval, "She hath done what she could." You may
say, '* 1 can't mak« a speech, you know ; I can't leave ray
business, and no about to gt-t up temperance meetings,"
and so on. But you caa do something ; you are each the

17C

I I

t.:j

centr* of ft circle, and tliero must hd an influence for you
to exirt in that circh*. 1 have seen Home towns revolution-
ized by the txerlion and inllmnce nf one man. Theru was
a town in Connt'cticut, the liar lest town I ever spoke in ; the
people sat and looked, as much as to say, " I wonder what he's
going to say next." One might as wtdl put one's head into
a bag of feathurs and try to make an im|)ie^sion upon them.
There was a meeting to be held at four o'clock j and we
really did not know what to do ; so I said to the minister,
" I am weary and disheartened ; I shall do you no good if I
stay. I'll go home, and you must attend the meeting." He
said, " What shall I do? There's my church, and there's one
grog-shop and another — one on each side of the church, and
one ir, kept by a member of my church, and it is the worst
place of ihe two." I don't say in my experience I have found
that when a professing Chii-ttian sells liquor, he keeps the
worst place, but I have found him the hardest man to d-al
with; for I'll defy a man to rea'! in his ]>ible, " VV^oe unto
him that giveth his neighbor drink, that putteth the bottle
to him and maketh him drunk, fur tl e cup of Ihe Lord's
right hand shall be turned unto thee, and shameful spewing
shall be on thy glory, for the reckoning of L.^banoa
shall cover thee, because of men's blood," &c. ; — I say, I'll
defy any man to read th t, and then ask God to bless him
in his business, when that is to put the bottle to his neiyh-
bour's lips. "But," said the minister, "yon go and talk
to these liquor sellers, and I'll go and pray over it." So
he went home, and I wont to the dram shops. 'J he first
man I went to see was Mr. Kibbey. Said he, "I suppose
you have come to ask me to give up business ; [ should be
very glad to do so ; I have been once or twice to hear
you, and I am pretty well convinced that it'-^ a miserable,
mean, dirty business ; I'll go and hear you this afternoon,
and if I am entirely convinced, I will give it up. and keep
a temperance house; and if that don't keep me, I've two
hands that will." I said to him, " You're a gentleman." —
The next man I went to looked like a turtle, poking out his
head every now and then, and bobbiuic it in again. Said he,
"I keep a decent house; Kibbey has all the drunkards;
they all go to him to get drunk ; its no use coming to me."
So 1 went away. The gentleman with whom I stayed was
an excellent man, and used to pray for the success of the
enterprise at family worship. I am always glad to find men
praying for ur, becauj^e I dim't thii.k any man will pray for
the success of anything he does not telieve to be right. But

177

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when wc Fat down fo Riipper, tVicre wss a mii^ of cider
put for CHC'li inr'ivifJual. I diil not like the look of it,
and I paid, '•Mr. r.;ir!o\v, would you willingly put ti inp-
tation in tlic way of a iTotluM? T ni;vir drink cidti ; but
if that had be«rn a glass of brandy jind water, it would
have bftn a It niptalion to me.'' f hail not sigiit-d the
pledge at that tiint; nmre than a couple of years , and I
believe that, evi ti now, I nhouM be v(!ry uneasy with
a glass of bnin<ly and water at my taV)h!. I then said to him,
" Yoti have great inniniice to exert in the town " Said he,
" If I could g( t Mr. Williams, a poor broken-down lawyer,
who had been put info tin.' Post OHiie, and turned away
throuirh drink, Iteiaustf he could not s(nt the letters, — if
1 could get him to siuu the pb-dge, I'd turn the b st
hogfiheaci of « ider I've g<it into vinegar, ami sign the
pledge mys -If.'' You profess to be a Christian man, and
you wotild not agree to <lo that unless you believetl it ri;:ht.
We have gettlrfl the po lit, i1m n, that it is riulit to «iga
the pledge. You sav j'oii wouNl do so-ant'-«o if good
woubl result ; and gf»od will be the result; no man ever
denied hiins .If f»)r tie suKe rtf another but good was the
result." Said he, "I'll think of it" At tiie meeting the
tall gruy-hair<'<l man st«iod up and sign d the pledge;
the next was Williams ; thtj) tht; two liq-ior-sellera came
up, and almost biirni»i (i th-ir heads over the table as
they Kign(Ml the [>b dt:o ; eiLfbty-two camf forwaid, nnd if
they did not make a fl airish with tht^ p^n, t ley put
their n^m s down as if thev leeant it, and as if
they would stay th re. AH ag eed that we njust have
another meeting at eight oelo« k. I went for some ri fresh-
ments. C'0:ning up the bill, a man in the w.iggon in front
of us stoppiid — stood up, — tried oit — "Halt, halt: b ok
at tin* grog-shops closed at sun-down. Tnirty-tive yt-ara
I've lived in this town, and never saw a sitrbt like that.
I've seen drunkards go in at on»i door as a funeral started
from the other. Three t h ers for co d water." We gave
the cheers, and the ex-dram-sellers came out and helped
U8. At the meeting . II went on well.

There were a class of voung meti in the town, as there are
everywhere. wh<» looke<l with a great deal of contempt on
every moral movem n'. They have no contempt for the new
fashion of a coat, or hat, or pair of b'ots ; there is a good deal
of intellectual power often wa ted by them in the appreci-
ation and description of thi.^ son of thing; nnd they arc

in the arrangemwat of their whibkers,

care I

178

and fo on. However, tlicse g^^ntlcmrn tliat thou^'ht a moral
movement ro mueh heneatli them, did not think it beneath
them to get a poor drunkard to come and disturb the meet-
ing. After I deiivend my speeeh, whieh was to the intem-
perate, that man stood up, and I never heard sueh a speech
as he made in my life. The young men were looking oa to
see the sport, and were rubbing their hands with great glee.
IIo said — " Look here ; I've got a bottle of li(pior in my
pocket, and they have given me half a dollar — no, they are
going to give me half a dollar — them's the fellows up there ;
they gave me a bottle of licjuor, and said they would give
me half a dollar if I would come to thid meeting, and every
now and then take out the liquor pull out the cork, and say,
' Mr. Gough, here's your very good health.' Young gentle-
men, you may keep your money ; I sha'nt do it." He went
out, and we heard a bottle smash on the steps. Then ho
came in to the audience. " I have been called drunken
Jake long enough," he said ; " I have had my hat knocked
over my eyes often enough ; Mr. Gough has told me that I
am a man ; I believe I am ; I have not acted like one ; but
I'll sign the pledge, see if I don't." His hand shook, and ho
could not do it. "I will, see if I don't." At last he suc-
ceeded in scrawling his name; it looked just as if he had
taken a fly, and dipped it in ink, and set it to run across the
paper; but it is there to this day. J went to that town
sometime afterwards ; they had a temperance celebration ;
the governor of the state made a speech on the occasion, and
the first words he uttered were these : — " Ladies and gentle-
men, I was invited to attend a military review to be held at
Norwich to-day; I said I would be there if nothing special
should intervene ; but a temperance celebration in my old
native town is something so special that I am with you to-
day. Mr. Williams was in the chair. Children and wives
of reformed drunkards were there. The children were sing-
ing, " Away, away the bowl!' and unfurling a banner on
which was inscribed, " All is right now father is sober." It
was a happy day. One woman came up and shook hands
with me. Said she, " Mr. Gough. when you was here last, I
felt that if my husband would only be sober and take care
of the children, I should bo perfectly willing to die, and I
never wanted to live so much as I do now." The man
came to me — wished me to go home with him. " There,"
said he, " is my wife. When you were here last she was
with her friends. There's a girl" — showing me his

179

dauglitcr — ' who was at Borvico. There are two children wlio
were in the alDishouso, and I a miserahlc hanger on at the
public-houses. ;My children are now at homi; : I have got
too much'pride with cold watir to let the parish take care of
them.' The whole town to this day is frea from the
traffic in intoxicating licjuor; and I believe tiie influence
of that one man, now in heaven, will be felt to all eternity.
You have an influence to exert. We ask you to exert it
for tlio sake of the sufleiing — for the sake of the down-trod-
dcn — for the sake of the innocent — for those who look up to
you — and, say what you will, the lower classes, (as they are
called,) of society are looking up to you ; and every man in
this assembly and every man in ]']ngland should take to
heart Justice Talfourd's last words : — that we were making
too great a difVerence between the classes, and, therefore,
losing th" influence that we might hold over them. " God
made of one blood all the nations of the earth." I thank
God we are living in an age in which that truth is bursting
through the rubbish that men in their worldly wisdom have
thrown over it — bursting through the rubbish that constitu-
tions, and despotisms, an<i tyrranies have heaped upon^it, and
we are beginning more than ever to look into the lace of our
fellow-man and call him our brother. And it is for the sake
of your weak-minded brother, your weak-lieaded brother,
your brother weak in intellect, weak in his physical /rame,
weak as the God that made you strong made him — it is for
his sake we plead, that in the large-hearted spirit of self-de-
nial you will give up that which is but a mere paltry grati-
fication, and which is productive of so much misery, so much
wretchedness, so much loss of life, and what is worse, so
much loss of peace of mind, so much loss of souls hereafter.
Drunkenness is a fearful evil ; no man can tell it. Wo are
waging war against it. We appeal to j-ou to help us.— •
Hange yourselves under this broad banner. It is a lawful
principle, it is a scriptural principle, to abstain for the good
of a brother. We ask you to take into your careful, prayer-
ful consideration, if this enterprise has not claims upon
your sympathy. Will you do it ? That is all we ask. —
Good night,

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Corporation

23 WEST M/ N STREET

WEBSTER, N.Y. M5B0

(716) 872-4503

PREVENTION BETTEll THASf CIRE.

AN ORATION BY JOHN B. GOUaH,

Delivered m the Maryhhme Theatre, on Monuay Evening,

August Sth, 1854.

JOHN CASSELL, Esq., in the Chair.

iMv-

Ladies and Gbntlemen, — I come again to speak to you
on th« subject of temperance, and I confess to you that, as
on other occasions, I hardly know how to begin. The hard-
est work I ever have is to commence a speech, and I feel
like the New England deacon before he began to speak,
when he said, " Brethren, I always find it necessary to make
a few remarks before I begin." The difficulty is to make
the "remarks ;" and though I have not written a word of a
speech, I have sometimes thought I would write a few in-
troductions, that I might slide into the matter a little more
easily than I generally do. But I know that whatever I
shall say, I shall say something that will bear as directly as
as I can make it upon the subject of temperance.

T/e glory in the fact that we are waging war against the in-
ijtrumentalities that tend to promote the evil of drunkennesij.
We find our greatest difficulty, not in opposition, that we
do not fear come whence and how it may, and we are always
ready to meet it. I consider every man has a right to op-
pose us if he thinks we are wrong. But I have heard many
say, " I believe your cause is a good one ; my sympathies are
with you ; I wish you God speed in your cfort— but I regret to
say that I am not a teetotaller myself. Now, I would rather
have a bold, manly enemy, who will take ground against me,
and say, "You are all wrong, and I will prov-i it." Well, if
we are wrong, it is ^asy to be proved. We are either right or
wrong ; and I say if we are right, help us ; if we are wrong,
oppose us. Every man has a right to hi« own opinions. If
a man differs from me that does not destroy my respect
for him. I can respect him while I fight him. To use an okl
English expression, " I can shake hands with him heartily

181

and thon ^ox him as "heartily nft(^rward8." If rtipn will
only tnUe i^roiitid ayainst ih and eirlcavor to maintain it,
that is h1) ^ii ask. If it is la's- iiood that is nupo.-t-d to us,
Wi! iJo not f ar it. M 'ton hnssii'l — and it s as t .uc n«)w as it
was win n hi^ said it — '• Let \hr truth and f. 1 ^f h'M-d grapple;
trutii WHS nivrr vt^t \v»»r>t d in an cncoMntcr with fijst'hoixl,"
AVi 1 It^t tlitj truth sta (i upon a scaffold with tht^ rope rotind
ht-r umcU, wliih* th^ falsehood sits upon the thron''; Ift thtf
truth ( at her wr< trhr<i crust in a corner, while the false-
hood sits at the siMuptuoMs fea<t ; let the truth ata!'' in rags
amid ohjociuy and scorn, while tie falsehood walks in glitter-
iii'j; rttire : there are aUvavs troo is of hetntiful angels gath-
enti round »h * truth, and the Ood of truth stands within the
dim sha<lo\v^ a'-d Ue<-ps wattdi over his own. We fi-ar not
the falsdn)od. If we ever jiu<;et ed it mist, he hy the power
of tiiith. If we tiVrr stand upon tln^ mountain top, to plant
the fla<r-sta1f flia shall hi-ar aioft the banner of our triumph
we do not stsm ^h re hy diifation, hy a dogmatic asaurap-
tion of priority on the pait of advinates; wt do not stand
t'lere hy ahust^. hut hy the mi.rh y power of the simple truth.
It is the truti that is ramutaturiug the piih'ic s.-ntiment.
Q'bauk G<»d vve ean h.ar it uath" rif)g stn-ngth as it rolls on
throu^f) th«* valleys, and tin- i,Mant mountains are prepared
to iHKe up the ulo'io IS tnlinys hy and by, and toss thetxx
from stiinuiit to summi', «'The land is free from the damning
curse of drunk»M»ness."

We are not th n afraid of truth. We don't get the truth
on the nttier si(h- unless we g.-t it by mistake. Otcasionally
a liquor s lli-r will put out a iru ■ siyn, hut lie will have lo
take it (h»wn »»gaiii. Dr. B=«ir<l told me there was a man in
Pennsyvania who call ;d him-rif a clergyman nnd — if you
will allow a nati ralized Yankee to say, " i guess' — I guess
it was the only call he t'V<r had. He published a pamphlet
entitliMl The Stmen Lfi.tt Pliif/ues, in wlii' h he endeavoured to
prove that the sev n last plHi;ues w re come. Missionary
J-ocieties, Tract Soci-tits, Snnday-st ho<d Societies, and
Temp'-raiM'e Societi 8, tot a |)ret»y hard rub; and a liquor
seller, thinking it would l»(^ a grand iilea to circulate the
work, sent for a hnndr»Ml or two cojiies. The pamphlvitg
came, with a larg" handbill, which he stuck up in the bar
just Mt tlm back of the counter. The first poor fellow that
cam ; in the morning, shivering and shaking under the influ-.
enep of his ap leiite, said. " H<re giv«' tn aglassof — " What!
The Sevan L at I'la^ues for sale here — I don't want any of

182

.. Jt i

them," and out he went. The next man who came in and
saw it turned right round, and went away again. He found
too much truth there ; and he could not stand easily and
drink a glass of brandy and water with the sign before him,
•' The Seven Last Plagues for sale ;" so that he would go where
there was less truth, and where he could drink in more
comfort.

On one occasion, a man in the drinking business put up a
sign, and the painter made an omission that well nigh
ruined him. His name was Solomon Camp, and the painter
was to put on the sign " S. CAMP'S Tavern," but he forgot
to put the dot in between the s and c, so that people
read it " Scamp's Tavern !'

I say we are willing to meet straightforward opposition ;
but it is the apathy of the people that we deprecate ; and we
call them together, not to tell them anything new, but, if
possible to stir up the dead, dull, stagnant, ftetid pool of in-
difference in regard to the evil of drunkenness, aui move
men to do something, either for us or against ns. Let me
speak of one or two of the manifestations of this indifference.
While with regard to every other evil we are willing to re-
move the cause that produces the effect, with regard to this
evil we mourn over the effect and endeavor to meet it with
jails and almshouses and pencteniiaries, and hanging yon
trembling wretch upon the gallows. We support and pat-
ronize, and legislate, for the cause that produces the effect.
Suppose a perfectly inoffensive man to go into a dram-shop.
When sober, he would not harm the meanest creature on the
face of the earth. He comes out set on fire of hell : there is
fire in his blood and in his heart and in his brain. He goes
and murders his wife. And what do you do ? You try him,
convict him, sentence him, and if he is not pardoned, you
hang him la front of Newgate before ten thousand staring
men and women. And what do you do with the liquor-
seller ? License him. And what do you do with tbo place
where the liquor was bought ? You protect as no other
place is protected by law. That is the way in which you
treat cause and effect with regard to this evil.

Another manifestation is an indisposition on the part
of the people to believe statements made with regard to
the evil of drunkenness. We tell them of the loss of life.
•'Don't believe it." We tell them of the pauperism.
"Don't believe it." We tell them of lunacy "Don't
believe it." Lord Robert Grosvenor, presiding at one of

183

our meetings in Exeter Hall, said, "As a visitor of one of
our lunatic asylums, I unhesitatingly declare that two-thirds
of the lunacy in Great Britain are produced, directly or in-
directly, by drunkenness," The managers of the idiot asy-
lums have said, " When we come to give our report, people
will be astonished that so much idiocy is produced by drink."
The children of drunken parents arc idiotic by scores, and
you have to sustain them. Yet people " don't believe it."
When we tell them of crime — "Don't believe it; yet the
last words of Justice Talfour were, that the great cause of
crime in this country was drink.

Let us look at the drunkard, and for a moment, if I may
use the expression, analyze him. A poor miserable sot!
Go after him. Pick him up as he i^. swept out with the
pitiful leavings of a dram-shop, with all the horrible stench
of a night's debauch clinging to him. Pick him up, as he
lies fermenting in the slime of the ditch, and set him on
his feet. There he stands, gibbering in all the idiocy of
drunkenness. What is he? A man. A man? Yes? a
man made in God's own ima.o,e. " In the image of God
created He him.'- A man ! What has wiped out God's im-
age and stamped there the counterfeit die o*" the devil?
Drunkenness has done it ; and it will do it quicker and more
effectually than any power on earth. That a man ! A man
by nature walks erect and lifts his forehead to the stars :
power and dominion are given to him : he is Nature's king.
W^hat has broken his sceptre ? What has tore the imperial
crown from his brow and debased him below the beast?
Drunkenness. God has given to man reason, and set before
him a destiny high and glorious, reaching into eternity.
What has dethroned his reason and hidden her bright beams
in mystic clouds that roll around the shattered temple of the
human soul, curtained in midnight? Drunkenness. God
has given him a healthy body : h^ is smitten with disease
from head to heal. His body is " fearfully and wonderfully
made ;" brt now it is a mass of corruption, more hideous
than the leprosy of Naaman and the sores of Lazarus. What
has done it ? The drink, the drink has done it !

We want people to see this and to believe it. Some of
the brightest and noblest-hearted men that have ever
lived, exposed to the drinking customs of society, are being
drawn into the centre of the fearful vortex, to escape from
which is almost an impossJbility. I am not an old man ;
but when I look back to a number of associations I formed

184

■'.»* '

years ago, and call to mind the yonng men I know, and
ask, "Wlitru are they?" Eclio only aiisw«r», "Where?"
Where are they ? 1 love not to th)!ik ot lh«^rn, for their
former hriglitufss is so horiibly toiitrastvd with the blaek-
nestj and diukiu'ss into which they huve passed for ever—
Jneu that might have risen, and wuimed and chtered, and
illumined us like the sun, and then gone down in glory.
Have yi)U ever nt the eiose of a hiight autiuna day seen
the 8un 8et, when ho grew so niello v that yon loved to
fold your aims and look right in his face? and as he sank
lower and luwir, youi soul sui njed to fill itself with the
beauty that was before you; and you hive watched until
the upper disc was just visible, and lookt d behind you and
Been the tree- top and niountuin t«»p floode i with one gush
ofm'dlow light — you have looked again, and it v.as gone ;
yet the remenib:anee of that sunset has bticii to you a
heart's paradise, mingling with all >ouc dreams of the
bright and beauiilul, and yoti have thought of the sun,
thought it went out of your sight, as a thin^ to be rcmem-
bereil for ever. The ris ng ot iliese young men might have
been like the sun, their settmg like his — sludtling on • flood
of mellow light over the land they left behind them ;
but they have passed into daikne.■^s, and we love not to
think of their former brightness — the contrast is too
horrible.

Young men we come to you with a principle. It is a safe
one ; it never injured any human being yet. You may argue
as you please respecting it; the principle is a manly one. I
hnow very many young men are in the habit of sneering at
teetotalism, and speaking sarcastically of temperance associ-
ations. 1 consider the principle of total abstinence from all
can intoxicate as a beverage a noble principle. It is a prin-
ciple that requires self-denial. Young men are very much in
the habit of looking at. every drunkaid as a weak-minded
man. Well, perhaps he is ; but there are some men who, if
they drink at all, will become drunkardi». I believe it is
physically impossible for some men to drink moderately. No
man intends to be a drunkard ; no man takes the first glass
and declares,—" With this I takethe first stf^p to utter ruin and
wretchedness." Then if men do not become intentionally
intemperate or drunkards, how do they become so? There
are certain temperaments that cannot help it; there are
certain men who cannot be moderate drinkers, call them
weak-minded if you please. You may call me weak-

185

minded, — weak as water,— as weak as any man that ever
stood upon the earth; but I tell you that I cannot be a
moderate drinker. With me moderation is excess, and it is
80 with a great many if they would but acknowledge it.
I stand in pretty good company. Dr. Johnson, on a tour
to the Hubridfs, was asktd by a lady to take wine. " I do
not dtiuk wine," he naid, " I am an abstainer ; for with me
moderation is excess." "But," said the lady, "you caa
ceriainly curry oft" one glass of wine." No, madam," said he,
" it would carry me oftV Many persons are in that position.
Is it my fault tha: I am of such a temperament thit if 1
drink one jilass «>f intoxicating liquor I feel it to the tips of
my fiiig. rs ? Js it my fault that if I drink a second my brain
is on tiri^? Can 1 hip it, if, when I take a third, I sing and
laugh, and that a foiuth makes me drtmk? You may tell
me 1 am ncal;-hr;ulcd. God gave me that head, and it in
not my fault. There; are many heads like mine, — many
persons who, if they drink at all, drink to excess. I main-
tain that anything wliicli disturbs a man's bruin and nervous
ifiystcm is. an ext^tss, whatever it may be produced by.

You say, howev- r, " It is ;.ll very well for you to be a tee-
totaller, because you are weak-minded." I don't know that
I like the term " weak-minded," as applied to all intemper-
ate nun. Yon may apply it to me if you please; but I
maintain this, — ihut it requires more strength — more moral
couragt — more deei>ion of character and firmness of purpose
— more of iron will and stern determination to break a habit
than to aequire one. Any fool, any addle-pate, any numb-
skull ujay easily become a drunkard, if his temperament is
of that kind ; (but I say it not in the spirit of egotism) it
tak'js a man to hecome a reformed drunkard.

I appeal especially to young men in this matter. I do not
appeal to them simply for themselves. Every young man
has an influence to exert, — a mighty power over others ;
and we believe, when a young man ."teps upon this glorious
platform, and adopts the principle of total abstinence from
ail that can intoxicate, in the spirit of self-denial, that he
exerts an influence over others whieh may be for good. Let
any young man look at the question carefully, and will he
not come to the conclusion that our principle is a safe one?
The uee of intoxicating liquors produces misery and wietch-
edness and woe unutterable. You cannot bring me one
particle of good on the other '^ide to balance it. You cannot
bring me a man who was ever benefitted morally, physically,

clfr

'II .'

186

intellectually, or religiously, by the use of intoxicating
liquor as a beverage. It does no man any good. Any man,
who, at the forge, the bench, in the carpenter's shop, on the
platform, or in the pulpit, does under the influence of
drink, what he could not do without it, does it to the damage
of his constitution. Pay-day will come by and by. Nature
is a hard creditor, and when she presents her bill you will
have to pay it, interest and all.

But some say, "Look at these men who drink beer, and
gee how fat they are." It is a kind of fat I don't want. I
suppose you will say I am very thin. So I am, but I believe
I am wiry. I don't do as much credit, perhaps, to teetotal-
ism as my respected friend in the chair — look at him ! But
then 1 have delivered 300 speeches a-year for the last eleven
years; travelled 10,000 miles a-year; written yearly from
1600 to 2000 letters, each year attended committees, public
breakfasts, dinners, teas, and I don't know what besides —
working constantly — and 1 have had only three weeks cessa-
tion of labor during the past two years and three months.
I think you would get a little thin under that kind of
labor.

Now i want to give you an illustration as to the fat of
these stout gentlemen who drink beer. 1 once went into the
largest distillery there is on the banks of the Ohio ; they
say it is the largest distillery in the world ; 1700 bushels of
corn are sent through it every day, except Sundays, all the
year round. They use steam power, taking the cobs of the
corn for fuel ; and they put out 100 gallons of whiskey every
day. It was said in a newspaper that the town in which
this dislillerj' stood was a thriving place, with 14, "^^OO in-
habitants — 2,500 bipeds and 12,000 hogs ; and the hogs were
fed on the still slops entirely. Certainly I never saw such
handsome looking animals in my life ; they were round and
fat ; and looking at one of them you would say, ''What a
handsome porker that is 1" Yes, but they had to keep men
to watch for as soon as a pig got a scratch on the skin it
ne^'pv would heal; it turned to a running sore, and the
animal had to be killed. A man once told me that he bought
a lot of that pork, and carried it down the river on specula-
tion, " but," said he, " I lost money by it. It was fine and
fat looking meat to be sure ; but 'when I pumped the water
out of my boat I pumped the meat away with it." That is
my opinion of the character of the flesh upon a man's body
that drinks so much of this beer. . It is not healthy ; and

r-^i

187

physicians in hospitals will tell you that the worst cases of
fracture which they have are those of the hrewer's draymen,
who drink so much hecr; that the cases which are the; most
incurable are tliose of men who are puffed up and bloated,
but with a healthy appearance, by drinking beer.

There is no good in it ; there is no good in the wine ycu
drink. How much wine is there drunk in London, do you
think ? I was in Jersey the other day, and I heard that
there was more port wine manufactured there and sent to
London than was consumed of the real wine in all *he world.
Yet everybody drinks pure wine ! Young men drink cham-
pagne sonietimi'S — sham pain at night and real pain the
next morning. Why, there is more champagn? bought and
sold in the v ity of New York than there is of the real wine
manufactured in the whole world. Tl\en what do London,
Paris, and all the other cities do for theirs ? for they all have
it pure ! Is it not ridiculous that persons should pay
such a high premium for being poisoned? Yes, sparkling
champagne ! Cider tiltered through charcoal, with sugar of
lead put into it, and carbonic acid gas enough to make it
fizz — 5/ia;;i enough in all conscience! I talked to a cham-
pagne merchant once, and he said, " It isn't a cheat. When
you chei\t a man you deceive him; but nobody can be de-
ceived about this. When it is sold for 4s or 4s Gd a bottle,
do you think the public are such confounded fools as not to
know it is manufactured? Why, the pure chamagne is I7s.
6c?. or ISi'.a bottle; and we, after giving the v/holesale and retail
dealers a profit, put it in the market for 4s. ; they must know
it is spurious — but they don't know that it only costs us
thirteen pence a bottle 1" But I said, ''A good many
l^eople buy it in bond." " Ha! ha 1" said he, " they are the
most cheated of any ; we send tens of thousands of baskets
of champa,gne to France, and have it back again : people
then pay freight and duty both ways, and then they have it
pure, you know 1" I have heard of a gentleman, one of the
surgeons of a hospital in Guernsey, who will manufacture
port wine before an audience, and defy the best connosieurs
to distinguish it from the real. That wine costs him three
half-pence a bottle, and he makes the Port wine crust for
four bottles for about three farthings. This manufacture of
wine is the most abominable cheat, the most transparent
humbug or swindle of the age. Young men who quaff your
wine, you are the most essentially humbugged of all classes
of your country. If you don't know these things, go to Mr^

I. < *',

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'■H I

188

T weedie'8, 337, Strand, and he will give you tracts on the
subjtct that will open your eyes to this abominable adnltur-
ation of liquors. Dickens has given us long articles on this
subject ; and it has been said that if you want a keg of Port
wine you must go to Oporto and see it made, and then sit
astride the barrel all the way home. You remt-mber there
was a failure of grapes in Madeira last year, and there may
be a failure this year. But if there are any gentleman here
who drink Madeira, let me sa,/ it doesn't make any differer ce
to you. There may not be another grape ; but if you want
Maderia you will have it. A gentleman was going into the
wine business in New York, and a iriend said — " What are
you going into business for?" "Oh," said he, "to muke
money. I am tired of the old jog-trot way of going to work."
" But are there not a great many people engaged in the
business ?'' " Yes," baid the wine-merchant, but 1 have got
a man from England who has been engaged in London in
the manufacture of wine nearly thirty years I pay him
$3,500 a year, and he can make any wine you ask for out of
the water in that kennel." That is the way wine is made,
— a great deal of it ; and I repeat there is no good in it. Wo
wage war against it because there is no good in it, and be-
cause there is a positive evil arising from its use.

We want your help, influence, and co-operation ; and it
costs something to help us. We want to save young men ;
we want to save the rising generation. To prevent is
better than to cure. While it is a hard matter to save the
drunkard, it is an easy matter to save the children. We
want help in this; we want the ladies to help us. Many
say — '• It is not proper for a lady to join a Temperance
Society." Why not? Which is the most proper; — for her
to join a Temperance Society, or to give wine to her neigh-
bours? " Woe unto him" — and I believe it means her too
— " that giveth his neighbour drink ; that putteth the
bottle to him," is the language of Scripture. If there arc
any en the face of the earth that have been made to de-
plore the evil of drunkenness, it is the women of this land ;
and a raost astonishing thing to me is, that all the women
of England — I was going to say to a man — are not with
uS. It astonishes me more than anything else, except one
thing, and that is, that the ministers of the gospel are not
with us thoroughly and entirely. It is postively past my
comprehension, I cannot understand it. We cannot get
the women to help us. They have a wonderful influence.—

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189

Tli<^y mi^y drop a pcliMo into nn ocean, the cc ntrn of wbi'^h
is every wIkio and tlie clixiiinfiren* e now In re, cans ri>? a
ripple that >>liall bear npon its li»»ist»m t^uuiH yaved by their
instiumcutality. Ytt they do n««t In Ip us.

We read of women <roniplainiri}; of tlnir lni^jbandH at tlio
polxe eoiiits, with tlieir tae« s h. aten all out of shapi*. VV*h»-a
1 first In aid of it I fVlt the b oi»l t'of^le in my vrins, and
thougb I am not much of a figi ter, I liionglit I Kiiouhl liko
to flog such nil n. The man vOiu will st ike a woman is a
coward, whether he is tin- lofig'-fingered, soft-band d mun of
the souib, who lashes his hiack sist r by prox\ , or the man
■who daslies his fist in tlie la'je of ibe \\\fr whom he Ijas
sworn to love antJ cb. risli. But I coufiss that my sympathy
for these women is very much diic<i npand stiflr«l,and 1 will
tell you why. I find the w(.m« ii of tliis couiitiy sustaining
and supiiorting the very prineiphs that produee drunken-
ness, and positively standiny; between tin ir husbands and
the only ])iineip!e that will .save them. Amongst other let-
ters that I have reeeived is one asking my adviee about the
Female Protection Society. I ask vou, gentlemen, I ask,
3'ou, ladies, to '^o ..^ ^n^Lt to Sv>mo ol your i ardeus and
drink slumps; go and see on Sunday nights young servant
girls coming from church with their hunn-books in their
handkerchii fs, and going into your dram-shops and beer-
houses ; see thi m, as 1 have, sitting before a little table
drinking hot spirits and water with s()mi' ariizan, a sweet-
heart p(Mbaps, sitting by their side, and souil- blaspheming,
cursing, de'..'nidtd women of the town within a fev% yards of
them. If young women will do thr.t, how can we protect
thera ? I say, prote* t yourselves, keep out of the dram-
shops. I have shuddered as 1 have seen young girls go into
these drinking bouses with young men whom they expect
to make their husbanos, sitiing and drinking with them.
What is to be the end of it? Black »yes, bruised faces, and
by and by the b; utal kick, the hard blow, and the miserable
household. These are the things you are laying up in store
for yourselves, it you will go into draui-shox)S with those
who are to be your husbands.

Now, we are waging war with these things. "We are doing
battle against time-honored observances; and I believe the
day is to come when these observances will be crushed,
when they will be trodden under foot, when it will be disre-
putable to use the drunkard's drink, when it will be dis-
graceful to offer it as an article of entertainment. You msLj

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say thiit time U far iu the future. It may bo, but I don't
buliovo it. Some say it U a Utopian scbeme. We have al-
ways bad men speaking tbus of an enterprise tbat was in
advance of tbe public sentiment of tbe age. I used to go to
scbool at Folkestone, in Kent, and tbey used to tell me there
Dr. Harvey lived. And wbo is be? The man wbo first dis-
covered tbat the blood circulated in tbe veins ; and he bad
to flee Ibc country. Men always pi^rsecute those wbo are iu
advance of tbe public sentiment; they always say, "You
cannot d> it." Tbey told Wilberforce and Clarkson, the
noble pioneers for freedom, that tbey could not do it. I'ut
tbey did do it; and thousands of broken, burning fetters,
clanking on that lirst day of August, sent up tbe chorus,
" Tbey have done it ; by God's help tbey have done what
tbey set out to do.'' Men tell us tbe same tiling, and tbey
laugb at our folly. A man in riiihidelphia invented au
engine by which be proposed to propel vessels ;,tbrougU
water against wind and tide by tbe aid of steam. Tbey
laughed at bim. " Propel vessels against wind and tide !
rerfectly ridiculous !" He showed them bis diagrams, and
plans, and models ; they looked at the whole thing as a pal-
pable absurdity, and at tbe man as a monomaniac, and they
treated bim as you would now treat the man who spends
fifteen hours out of the twenty-four, in trying to discover
perpetual motion. He died in Kentucky, and during bis
last illness, one of his friends, stooping over bim, said, " Is
there anjr last request you have to make ; if there is, prefer
it, and we will see it complied with." " Yes," be said,
his eyes lightening, " I have a last request to make. When
I die bury me by tbe banks of tbe glorious Ohio, that ia
after years my spirit may be soothed with the songs of
the boatman, and the music of tbe mighty steam-engine,
as the vessels pass and repass conveying the product of one
clime to that of another." His friends turned away, ex-
claiming, « Poor fellow I he is crazy yet. Wbat a pity it
is 1 He dies of tbe one-idea disease," There was a man
with a mind like a mountain-top, towering above its
fellows, catching the first beams of the morning light, and
basking in the full sunshine, while those in the valleys
were shrouded in gloom; and if his spirit may be per-
mitted to wander by the banks of the glorious Ohio, he
will know that there the music of the steam-engine night
and day never ceases ; it is one glorious piean of triumph
for the mighty power of science. The idea lay in that
man's brain, and he gave it birth ; we live to rejoice that

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mighty instruraentiilitics have been put forth by such menwho
were in advance of their age, and were therefore persecuted.
When men spokeabout buildingrailroads they were hiughed
at. " Railroads !" how in the name of common sense can
you build a railroad ? We arc willing to believe anything
in reason, but how can you build a railroad ?— how ( an you
get up hill by a railroad ? Why some of these fanatical fel-
lows talk of going at the rate of twenty miles an hour. At
such a breakneck pice as that they would endanger the lives
of all the passengers. One gentlemen in Boston said he
would oppose the granting of a railway charter, because the
parties wanted to go the whole distance, sixteen miles, in an
hour. One gentleman in England, now an Earl, said.
"They talk of bridging the Atlantic by steam. I will eat
the boiler of the first steamboat that goes across the Atlantic."
I came from Boston to Liverpool in one, but 1 never heard
that that gentleman ate the boiler. " Railroads 1" said a
scientific gentlemen, *' I would as leave trust myself on the
back of a Congrevc rocket." Captain Basil Hall once wrote
a book in which he said, "As a practical engineer I pro*
nounce it to be impossible to .oiild a railroad from Worcester
to Albany over those mountains. These Yankees have got
it down on paper, and they consider a tlAng done when
they have it on paper ; but as a practical engineer I pro-'
nounce it to be impossible." Now I rode over that very
railway, rising 1783 feet in 23 miles, with that very book in
my hand. Oh I people don't break their necks now. You
will see in a railway the lawyer looking over his brief, the
minister studying his next Sunday's sermon, a couple in a
corner talking soft nonsense — nobody thinks of breaking
necks now. Perhaps, too, you will see a couple of the most
inveterate grumblers the world ever produced, men who
battled to the very last against the granting of the charter.
There they sit looking through plate-glass at the scenery :
" We are a wonderful people, ain't we ?'' says one. " Yes, we
are an astonishingly wonderful people; this is an age of
progress, sir. Why, I remember it occupied us two weeks
to perform a journey which now takes us twenty-four hours."
Yes, it is " we " now. Why ? Because the work is done ;
because the matter is carried, and proved to be popular,
plenty of men oppose a thing till it becomes popular, then
they will ride on a railway that others have made in spite
of them, drawn by a locomotive other men have made, and
sent on its track in spite of them : and then have the im-
pudence to say, " We have done it."

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ri'I

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O'lr ontcrpris" is in ar?va.nr»' <>f Hie fii^ilic sriitiment, and
th()<c wilt) CAWvy iron aro irii»ri'>im iconoc'asts, who arc g"ing
to Itr ;ik (lowi: til.; dnirik. n D'^-on worsliipp ; 1 by their
fathers. Count rri • over th" chi'S'-ii Ihrot'S f this c'lrlh. uiid
I will show yon in-n fhatsto'xl ;il^nv — i.y, ulom^, while thovSe
they toil (1, ami hihoitMl, ;iri<l M;,M)ui ■'.(• 1 f.r, hurled at tht-ni
contnnj' ly, scorn, and cont'nijjr. Thex Ptooil alone : they
]ookid into the fii nvr calm'y an 1 uifh fiith ; they saw the
gold -n Iti; 111! in lining; to f,"i ■ ■<! I • of [) M-fi;,;t jn^'ice an'l they
fought on amidst th • sU)fm of p ts.; i tion. In Great Bataiti
thi-y tell m • wh ii I go io sec such a piison :— " There is a
duriiicoji in -.vhich sm h a one w;is confiti d " '• Mere, among
(till) ruins of an oM CHs-Je, wc will show you wfjcr snch a
mw: lal lus cjir-s lilt off, anl wh ri^ another w;is murd :rcd."
TThi ri til 'y will sh -w nie ni •nnincnrs to^vc-jnir n,) to the
heav- ns :-—" There i ■: a monum nt to siieli a one : there is a
nionnnient to anothr" And what (\o I find? That one
gencrcttion persecuted and !n»wlcd at these men, crying,
'•Crucifv th- in! crnL;ify thtirn !" aM<l daacini; round the hlaz-
in«j: fiiciiots that consnm d ihein ; atid flic n xt i; a -ratioQ
busied itself in uatherin:; up th ; sc itttn-.ul as'i -s of the mar-
tyred heroes and d podriai; ih rn in rh'^ ir -Ide i urn of a na-
tion's history Oh, ves ! tl» ; men rh ir fi^hr for a great entnr-
pr's -are th • m.n that b ar th ; hrnrit >u thi* hattl •, and " He
who se;th in s ec ret"— >jo. th the desire of hi-; chil<lrrn, their
stuady purpoh *, thei- finn sulf-denia! — "will reward th-ni
.opiuily," tlioiii^ii they m \y <iie and sec not-Mgnof the triumphs
>pf fhi-ir »Mjttr,»rise.

O'Jr cause is a progrcisive ono T read the first constitu-
iiou of tlu- fir-t tempo -ance sru-iety fmnicd in the State of
New York in 1800; and on;j of the hye-hu^s stated, "Any
memlier of this assoeistion vh,, shall be convfcted of iu-
toxicatioa ahall be fiiMl a q larter of a dollar, except
sui-h act of iii'oxiea'ion shaM t;ikt! place on the 4th of July
or any other regularly a )pointcd mi'itary muster.'" We
laugh at that now ; but it was a serious matter in those
dH»8: it was in advance of the public; semiment of the age.
The very m -n that adopted that principle were p rscouted;
thtry were hooted and pelted tlKough the streets, the doors
of their houses w. re blackened, their cattle mutilated. Th^
fire of perset-ution scorehed s )m ' men so that ihey left the
work. 0th Ts worked on, n."d (lod blessed them. Some
are living to- lay ; and F -hotilt like to stand where they
Btand now and r e the lio'ghty entf rpris(5 as it risers befuro
theui. They worked hard. They liftca the first turf—

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prepared the Led in which to lay tho corner-stone. Tbey
laid it among persecution and storm. They worked under
the surface ; and men almost forgot that there were busy
hands laying the solid foundation far down beneath. By-
and-bye they got the foundation above the surface, and
then commenced another storm of persecution. Now we
see the superstructure — pillar after pillar, tower after
tower, column after column, with tho capitals emblazoned
with " Love, truth and sympathy, and good will to men.'"
Old men gaze ujion it as it grows up before them. They
will not live to see it completed, but they see in faith
the crowning cope-stone set upon it Meek-eyed women
weep as it grows in beauty ; children strew the pathway
of the workmen with flowers. We do not sec its beauty
yet — we do not sec the magnificence of its superstructure
yet — because it is in course of erection, Scaffolding, ropes,
ladders, workmen ascending and descending, mar the
beauty of the building ; but by-and-bye, when the hosts
who have labored shall come up over a thousand battle-
fields waving with bright grain never again to be crushed
in the distillery — through vineyards, under trellised vines
with grapes hanging in all their purple glory never again
to be pressed into that which can debase and degrade
mankind — when they shall come through orchards, under
trees hanging thick with golden, pulpy fruit never to be
turned into that which can injure and debase — when they
shall come up to the last distillery and destroy it, to the
last stream of liquid death and dry it up, to the last weeping
wife and wipe her tears gently away, to the last little
child and lift him up to stand where God meant that
man should stand, to the last drunkard and nerve him to
burst the burning fetters and make a glorious accompan-
iment to the song of freedom by the clanking of his
broken chains — then, ah! then will the cope-stone be set
upon it, the scaffolding will fall with a crash, and the
building will start in its wondrous beauty before an as-
tonished world. The last poor drunkard shall go into it
and find a refuge there, loud shouts of rejoicing
shall be heard, and there shall bo joy in hearen, when
the triumphs of a great enterprise shall usher in the day
of the triumphs of the cross of Christ. I believe it, on
my soul. I believe it. Will you help us. That is the
question. We leave it with you. Good night.

I , i!.

THE POWER or EXAMPLE,

/ 1) ■■

AN ORATION BY JOHN B. GOUGH.

Delivered In the Manic Hall., Store Street, on Wedne^daiiy Aug. 9, 1854.

JOHN DUNLOP, Esq., in tub Chair.

Ladies and Gentlbmen, — Many years before I expected
to visit the land of my nativity, I had a book presented
to me, the author of which is the chairman of this
evening's meeting — a book i-h.it intensely interested me.
It was on the Drinking Usages of Groat Britain ; and I
thought, as I sat and listened to him just 'or the moment
that I might, if a layman may be allowed soiretimes to
take a text, take that as my text for this evening's address,
or part of it, at any rate. The drinking usages of society.
We who are engaged in the temperance enterprise are
engaged in a war against those Uisages; we stand in an
attitude of uncompromising hostility to them, because we
believe they are doing more than any other instrumentality
to perpetuate the evil of drunkenness. Our object is not
only to cure, tut to prevent. It is a greater work to pre-
vent than it is to cure. It is a hard matter to save a
drunkard, 'i'here are many, perhaps, in this assembly, who
know that when the appetite has once fastened upon a
man's system, and becomes with him a master passion — it
is a hard matter to save him. Every |intemperate man is
a diseased man ; and the disease in his system is the appe-
tite that cries through every nerve and sinew of his frame,
like the leech, day and night, " Give, give, give," and that
appetite, in my opinion, is one that never can be entirely
eradicated. In some men the appetite may lie dormant,
in others it is alway s active. I believe you might as soon at-
tempt so make a sieve hold wator, or blow up a powder maga-
zine modi rately, or do any other impossible thing, as to make
a man a moderate drinker who has become habitually intem-
perate. Let a man who has been habitually intemperate
adopt the principle of total abstinence — let him keep it invio-
late for years, and then give him a dram if you dare ; nine out
of ten will have another in spite of you, and ninoty-nine out
cf every hundred will want it w?th such a want that a short
man can hardly form any conception of. Men build their

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hopes of tripping up reformed drunkards on a knowledge of
this fact. A man once said that he would raise more money
than could be raised for a political campaign to any man
who would get a glass of brandy and water into me, by fair
means or foul. Why ? Because he believed that if I ever had
an appetite it was there yet, like the smouldering fire of a
volcano, and that one dram would rouse it into fury, and
drench me body and soul in the lava of drunkenness.

Some say that if a man signs the pledge and breaks it,
there is a great moral influence broken down, and there is
no wonder if he takes another step downwards. But, sup-
pose a man should take drink into his system unknowingly !
A gentleman in Glasgow once gave me the following in wri-
ting. A young man, a machinist, a splendid workman, but
a notorious drunkard, was induced to put his name to the
pledge, and he kept the pledge for six years. He withstood
all temptation, — the temptation at the corner of tho street
—the temptation in the social circle— the temptation among
his friends — and what was worse than all, the temptation in
•his shop ; for I do think that in this country, in many cases,
the persecution of working men by working men is tenfold
■worse than the persecution of working men by masters. I
do think that the tyrannous drinking customs of these shops
are an abomination. There are known men in this country,
-—I have seen them and read their letters in the newspapers,
—who are now wandering about in quest of work ; honest,
sober, industrious men, who have been driven from shop to
shop, because their fellow-workmen have made the shop too
hot to , hold them, in consequence of their refusal to bow
down to the accursed drinking usages of these shops. That
man withstood all these temptations. His only sister was
married, and he went to the wedding. They knew that if
they asked him to drink he wouTd refuse, — that if they oflFered
him whiskey he would spurn it with contempt ; indeed, they
were afraid to ask him, for he had a couple of strong fists,
and he threatened to flog any man that would tempt him to
drink. In the midst of their festivity, however, the tea was
passed round, and some one, wickedly and fiendishly, with a
coward spirit, put a quantity of whisky in his tea. He
drank it, and was not aware that there was spirit in it ; he
was not aware that there was in it an influence that would
operate on his system as it did ; but he never drew a sober
breath after that. Three weeks from that day he was found
among the rushes by the river, staring, as only a dead man

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<»n stare, into thebri.ijht, blue sky, the f<>*\m 2;atlieiticl ronud
bis livid lips. Hy knew not tbit h.j had driuik tin,' tspiritj
but its iaflucnce was upon his physical t" amo, ruuiiidg like
fire through his blood and acrvo-*, and drig^i t^ hi-u dowa
to drunkenaut^s and dv-ath. Ji is a hani m tur to bave a
-drunkard because of this fearful habit acqiiiel.

Now the Q'lestion we ask the pr-'Sent g -neia io'i is, Wliat
will you do f.>r the children, to sav ; theiu tVoin the trrible
influences that are diawin;^ thousands into the oiitor ciicle of
the whirlpool, the vort x of which is ruin, despair, and
death ? This is the qu isti«)n : and as ouiobj 'ct is to l)uild up
a barrier bftween th>; unpolluted lip and the intoxicating cup,
we feel bound to wage a war of ext.;rinin;itioii against this
terrible evil. £ unhesitatingly <leclaro th it the, social drink-
ing usages id society are doini; more than all the dram-sclling
in Christendom to maky druukenn'ss a p.-rpetual curse.
Now, I know this is v.ry plain taikin^': but w^' have come
to a time when w^i must talk plain — A^hrn we must speak
the truth, and if it hurts any man, the Lord h Ip liini to get
his hurt healed. If 1 say what is n(»t true it will hurt no
one. We cannot attack customs, without sp akliig of ia-
dividuais ; for without the support an I assistan ;e that they
receive from the respectable portion of the community, these
customs would sink into disrepute, and b c-un : disgraceful.
I want you to remember one or two points in connection with
this subject.

Drunkenness is an evil that cannot possibly exist without
human agency ; and man is responsible for it, because man
can control it. Tnerefore, wh n we speak of the customs
we must speak of those who sustain and support them.
I don't know but that I m ly give some off 'uce — I almost
always do. When we speak of tfifccts nobody gets angry j
but when we speak of the causes, we must touch indi-
Tiduals ; for these causes cannot exist without human
agency. I have seen some persons manifest decitled anger
and wrath, ,yhen they have not liiied what has been said at a
meeting. I have seen a man button up his coat,—
the more buttous the better — and look very fiercely arouad
him, as if he was trying his prow -ss on somebody, take up
his hat and smash it down over his eyes till he looked
like a certain member of parliament, when he said "I
despise everylnidy." I have seen them making as m-ich
Doise as they could, and walk out -iiid han>: th ) door after
ihem because somethiug offended them. Now, that is the

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smallest, raeanesf, most pitiful, cowardly method of showing
rescntmunt that I know of. 1 saw a man onco go out of a
place of w«)rshlp, because the minister said something he did
not like; just as if that minister was placed there, in the
sacred desk, to consult the tastes and opinions of his people,
and ask how much he jshould preach, or how little, of the
gospel. A man, if he has got God's spirit, in his heart, and
God's message in his hand, can stand in the sacred desk, and
command the taste, sentiments, and opinions of his people,
by the rules laid down in the gospel; and if preach*ing the
gospel drives men out of the church, let them go, for
the church is better without them. The strength of the
church of Christ, I believe, consists, not so much in its
numbers, in its wealth or popularity, as in its purity

I do not say that respectable moderate drinkers perpetuate
the evil of drunkenness intentionally ; but 1 say that they
do it, and I am going to prove it. If I do prove it, I have
no doubt that some one will get ang"v. The assertion won't
make people angry; they will say, "Oh I that is a man's
opinion, and nothing more ;" but if the man proves his
o. iuions to be correct, then is the time when offence is
given. A man went to his neighbor and said, "So-and-so
called me a liar." " Oh ! never mind thai." " But I do mind
it ; it pains me ; it hurts my feelings when a man calls me a
liar." "Ohl nevermind; I should not mind it." "I say
you would sir ; you would mind it as much as I do." "Oh I

no, think nothing of it ; you know he cannot prove it."

" Why, confound the fellow, he has proved it and that's
what makes me so angry." Now, I say I do not suppose the
respectable moderate drinker to be purposely doing this ;
but he do s it. And when I say the respectable moderate
drinker, I want to be understood that I do not judge of a
man's respectability by the quality of his coat, or the amount
of bis bank stock ; I do not think that a man who is genteel
must also te respectable. Gentility is not respectability.
I have seen a very great many long white fingers, and soft
hands, and soft heads, and hard hearts ; and the possessors
of these articles were certainly not very respectable. A man
»ay have a hand as hard as horn ; he may wear a fustiaa
jacket, and moleskin trousers, and hob-nailed shoes ;^f he
is only right in his head and heart, he is a gentleman. I do
not care whether he digs your coal in the deepest mine ia
the land, or pleads your cause in the highest court. " A
man's a man for a' that." It is the respectability of a mazi

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morally considered that 1 speak of, when I use the term
"respectable moderate drinker." Now, let me prove my
point. Suppose some respectable young man — your son, for
instance, should be walking through the street, and should
meet the worst drunkard the whole district cai produce, — one
of those miserable, pale-faced ghastly,hollow-eyed gin drink-
ers, or one of those blear-eyed, bloated wretches, offensive to
every sense. He comes up to yoar son, puts his hand on
bis shoulder, looks him in the face with a maudlin look, and
says, "Come, I've got a bottle of liquor in my pocket, and
I should be very much obliged to you for the privilege of
taking a social glass with you." Now, if your son never
drinks till he drinks with hi»n he will never drink at all ; if
he wait to take the first glass till he takes it in that company,
he will never take :t; he is a total abstainer as long as he
lives. But if one of these ladies present were to ask your
son to take wine, he would say, " If you please, rcadam,"
and take it in a minute. If any of these respectable gentle-
men asked him to take wine at their table, he would take
it immediately, without a flush on his brow or a blush on
hi ; cheek. It is a respectable practice, maintained and sup-
ported by a respectable community. But if we can only
make it disreputable to drink strong drinks as a beverage,
disgraceful to offer them as articles of entertainment, the
next generation is saved with very little trouble.

Now, we want arguments. We want arguments, if pos-
sible, on the other side ; but we can rarely get them. We
occasionally have something in the shape of an argument.
For instance, a gentleman wrote me a very long letter, dat-
ed from one of the club-houses, in which he says that drunk-
enness is a fearful evil, that he does not know that he
ever saw it in such a light as he has seen it lately ; but,
he says, instead of total abstinence being the remedy,
you must educate the people, make a man respect himself,
and then he will govern himself. Well, go and see one of
those poor little wretches in the street who comes and begs ,
of you to give him a penny. I have sometimes felt as if it
was almost impossible to refuse th<'m ; yet you are apt to
say, "what a parcel of miserable little wretches, and tiow
the city is infested with them!" Now, who are they?
They are children, although there may be something like
an old head on young shoulders sometimes. And what a
history is attached to them — a history, which traced in
blood, and written in tears, there is not a man here with
nerve strong enough to read it, — a history of darkness,

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without a ray of ligat, — a histor}'-, fearful in all its pages,
— a history such as you dream nothing of. You speak of
them as miserable little children. Go home with them,
and you will find that they are sent out to beg in the
streets, to steal and to lie, in nine cases out of ten to sup-
port the miserable and debauched husband and wife, the
father'and motlier. Go into some of the lowest streets, as
I have b'cn ; ask that practised thief there, who is loung-
ing at the coiner of the gin-shop, whose the children are
that are playing near him. I went with one ©f your city
missionaries to such a place, and saw near a dram-sliop, a
man who drinks and steals -a man wlio boasts of being a
thief. He said: "You know what I am, and I know what
you arc ; I shan't pick your pocket " That man confessed
to the influence of drink. " What made so-and-so throw the
woman out of the third story?" '• Jt was drink, sir, it was
drink." "Look here, said the city missionary, "there
are a lot of boys, eight or ten of them; who are they?"
"I know every one of them. There is Jim" — "I don't
want to know their names; who are the parents of those
children that are playing at pilch-penny ?" " They are
every one of them drunkards; they send their children
about the streets in the morning, and if they don't bring
homo at night just exactly so much, they get a whopping.
Perhaps a boy will be sent round to sell his ing'ns ; the
father and mother have counted them all, and they know
what money he should bring home. The boy, perhaps,
when he has sold a lot, has thrown in one or two over, and
in this way his money is a little short, llow does he make
it up ? He knows that he will get a beating if he goes
home ; he must get the money somev^^here, and he steals ;
and, l)y-and-by he finds that stealing 's easier than selling
ing'ns. That's what makes the thieves, sir. They brings
home their earnings to support their fathers and mothers."
You may tell me about education ; I ask, how can you
educate these children until you take the drink from the
parents? Does education prevent a man from being a
drunkard ? I believe the most miserable wretch'^s in this
city are the drunken literary men. The worst specimen
that I ever saw but one, and he was a member of Congress,
was a man who was once a popular and acceptable minister
of the gospel. When I, with three others, fourd him, he
was in a low dram-shop, preaching mock sermons to the
rabble for raw rum. I was once called upon by a lady in
Exeter, who told me that her husband was once an Inde-

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pendent minister — that he Lad hoen a popular and accept-
able preacher for some years in Hampshire. He was asked
to go and start a new interest in Nottinghamshire, and he
preached three or four ytars there. He was a n«uvoug,
energetic man; he preached night and day, and almost
wore himself down. The doctor said he must talie some
wine and beer. "Oh, dear!'' said the lady who called upon
me, as she wept as if her heart would bnak, "to give beer
and wine to my husband to stimulate him more ! If the
doctor had prescribed a sedative and ordered him rest, the
people would have given it to him ; instead of that, he
added fuel to the fire to stimulate him. He did nioro work
for a time, but the habit (,f drinking grew upon him as a
kind ot fascination; it fastened upon him till it became a
master passion. He left his church, and went and preached
for two years at a place eight miles from Torquay. The
habit grew so fast upon him that he gave up his charge,
and gave up the ministry altogether ; and now, I want you
to see him in Exeter Jail, wheie he lies to undergo his
trial in July for larceny." You may tell me, if you i)lease,
about education ; educated men beconie druukaida iia vvvll
as others. Dr. Sprague, of Albany, was asked to see an
educated man, who had been picked up in the street and
placed in the watch-house ; he was once a minister of the
gospel, and fill«d a pulpit formerly occupied by the late
Dr. Chalmers. He was a man of fine talents, and brilliant
education. When I was in Edinburgh, I asked a minister
about him. "He," said he, "was a noble fellow," but he
feared that he was loving the wine too much. He dis-
graced himself, and went to America. Dr. Sprague helped
him, and procured him a situation in an academy as a
teacher. He kept sober for a while, but, at a party, was
invited to take wine, and he did it; and he was not seen
for six weeks afterwards, when he was found in a wretched
hovel on the banks of the Hudson. He was got back
again, and his friends laboured with him for months, but
his relapses were so frequent, they were obliged to give
him up ; they could do nothing with him. Education did
not prevent drunkeness in his case. You have educated
men in London— God pity them! — drunkards now, bu* we
scarce dare to mention it Many men have died of disease,
—many have died in railway carriages — have been ci•u^hea
to death by accident — have been blown up in steamboats,
we may speak of these , but when men die drunkards, the
disposition of the people is to let down the curtain between

201

Hum and <he public, and yon must not speak about them,
for fi iir of hu'tirig tho feelintrs of others.

You may tell me about tducatloii ; it is not only in the
horn "S and hovels of the pfwr that tho foul footprints of
drunkmnt'fes are to b'^ sreij blasting and blighting every
green thing. Many a lady rides through the streets iu her
caning'' tliat hna a broken heart. Many a lady is the envy
of Si-me who arc foolish enough to envy those who are above
them, nnd isyet perishing by inches through the conscious-
ness of the di gradation of those they love. Lut they have
power to hide it.

But the gentleman that I have referred to, said in his let-
ter, th.it we are commanded in the Bible socially to drink ;
p-nd one reason is adduced that you will t-ay is contemp-
tible. •' Does not," he said, " our Saviour say, * As often as
ye do this,' (and then it is put in brackets that he gave them
of the wine) 'do it in renitmbrance of me?' Therefore
Christ snnctiRed tho drinking customs of society." We
have sometimes such arguments as these, almost too con-
temptible to notice. I have a volume of six sermons,
preacl.ed b^^ a doctor of divinity in 1837, and I was told wheu
the book was given mo that he vvoub: give twenty pounds
to get it out of my hands. He says in it, speaking of the time
arriving when corn shall make glad the hearts of young
men, and new wine the maids." ''How can corn make men's
hearts glad, unler.s it is turned into whisky? and because
womi n are of feebler constitutions than men, wine is given
to them to cheer their hearts." One remark that he made
was positively blasphemous. " I cite," he said, " these tee-
totalers to judgment, and ask them what they will say
when Christ shall say to them, " 1 was thirsty, and ye gave
me no drink.'" This was positively published in 1837,
w'th the man's name to the book ; and 1 can tell you his
name, and show you the book. We do meet with such argu-
ments as these sometimes; but we do not mind them. One
argument I heard from an individual, who presided at a
meeting that was unfortunately put under patronage. Now,
I am not one of those who believe in patronage — that is,
simple patronage to a good cause. A good enterprise needs
no patronage. You will not put the Bible Society under the
patronage of any one will you? A good enterprise patron-
izes every human being that thoroughly engages in it ; there
is no stooping down in the matter. Every man, I do not
care who he is, who will sign the temperance pledge for
the benefit of his brother, will take a step upwards. We

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cannot stoop down in doing a good work. Do you think tho
Duke of Bucclcucli has taken a step down, hecause, in order
to prevent drink being. sold in tlie toll-houses on his largo
estate, he has taken tiioso toll-houses into his own hands,
and on every toll-gate has had painted, " Walter Scott, Duko
of Buccleuch, toll-man V Do you suppose he lowered him-
self in becoming a toll-man for the sake of his neighbors,
his tenants, and the community at large ? He never took a
higher step in his life. But this gentlemen who presided,
said, "This meeting has been placed under the patronage of
the magistrates of the town, Xow, we are not teetotalers ;
wc practice the virtue of moderation ; we set a good example
to the young men, an example ot self-control ; our example
will teach young men to control themselves — to use tneso
articles moderately 1 and I think those who have not this
self-control might join this society ; but we set the young
men an example of self-denial in. resisting temi)tation,"
Now, that may sound very specious : I suppose it did to a
great many ; but when you look at the argument, I think
you can pick it all to pi-^ccs. In the first place I want to
kaow what is moderation in the use of intoxicating lic^uors ?
Define that and there will be one point gained for you. You

cannot judge of moderation by quantity — that is settled : or
by quality. You must judge of it by its effect on the brain
and neryous system. My opinion is, that the use ot intoxi-
cating liquor as a bevcra2"e is always an excess. Let a man
take anything that disturbs the action of the brain, that
disturbs the harmony of this wonderful instrument, that
causes one of its ten thousand strings to jar, and is he doing
that which is right?

But look at the matter in another light. I was once
speaking in a church, and I saw a man sitting with his feet
on the back of one of the benches, eating apples and spit-
ting and puffing about as if throwing contempt on all con-
nected with the affair. I said to the minister, " Who is
that man ?" " I am sorry to say he is a member of my
church ?" " What are you going to do with him ?" "I told
some ot the officers of the church to look after him to-night,
for I saw the plight he was in." " Shall you not discipline
him ?" " I will if I can,'' said Mr. Stracy. " I'm glad I'm
not a member of your church ; if I was I would get out of
it to-morrow, if there's such a word as * can ' in reference
to a case so gross as that." " Mr. Gough," said the minister,
<' we cannot discipline him for drunkenness like that while
there is so much moderate drinking, as it is called, in my

203

church. That mm will take a couple of glasses of brandy
and watiT, and then bo in the state j'ou saw him in; but
there ar« many men in my church who take six or eight
glasses without getting drunk, and we cannot make any
particular offence of that." Now take two men sitting at
the same table : one of them drinks two glasses, aiid reels
away from the table, and men say ho is drunk ; the other
drinks pix glasses, and then goes quietly to his wriling-
desk; and writes a letter to his friend. "Which is the moder-
ate drinker ? A gentleman in Liverpool, who signed the
pledge, not so much for his own sake as for the benefit of
others, said : " I have no idea I shall ever become a drunk-
ard. I have many and many a time drunk two bi ttles
of wine at a sitting, but I have see men go under the
table that have drunk but one ; and while they have
been sleeping off the fumes on their brain, to wake with a
wretched head-ache, I have been qut^itly wiiting my letters
on business," Then what is moderation to one, may be
drunkenness and death to another. Suppose iTow a bridge
built over a deep gulf, and capable of holding a weight of
150 lbs. You weigh 130 lbs., and that is a safe bridge for
you ; you walk up and down in perf^'ct safety. But there
stands your son, who weighs 2 cwt., and you tell him to fol-
low your example. " But I don't like the bridge, father."
" Don't be a fool, boy ; I have walked over it for forty years
in perfect safety ; there is no crack about it ; I have never
felt it give way." " Yes, but they say — " " Don't be such a
fool as to mind what they say. One man can do what an-
other can. Follow my example, and don't mind the fanatics."
Your boy sets his foot on the bridge ; there is a crash and a
shriek, and he goes down to dtstruetion. Why did not the
fa'her seta good example ? Because he did not take into
consideration the difference in the weight. I say to any
gentlemen or to any lady here, that you cannot, with regard
to. that boy of yours, of nervous temperament, full of fire,
easily excited — 3'ou cannot in view of the evils of drunken-
ness, cursing the land and sweeping away some of the
brightest and best among mankind, say that you set him a
good example by your moderation.

Now, I say that the use of intoxicating liquor as a beverage
is nothing but a miserable, paltry custom with not a particle
* of good in it. Intoxicating liquor used as a beverage, never
benefitted any man You may ask your physiologists and
pathologists, and those th^it know more about the human
system than I do, whether intoxicating liquor ever benefitted

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any human boini^ in lu-.'vlth. Vo»n' pn riidcnt obtained a de-
claration from 2,000 physicians and nndi< al men in Great
Britain, witli Sir lU'njamin JJrodic and Sir Jamcs^Clark at
their head, stilting' that perfect lioalth was co!n[)atible with
entirj abstinence from stimuhiting drinks They do a man
no good. They may give a temporary gratilication — an
animal pK^asure, but tliere is no good in them. But some
say, "'You won't let ns have it at all, and it is necessary
soniitimes as a medicine-" Well, then, use it as a medicine
r have nothing to say to that. It is, however, a most aston-
ishing thing that there is so much of it used as a medicine
in Great Britain Xow, I dont want to say anything against
the physicians of this country, for they know a great deal
more than I do, and many of thum have forgotten more than
I ever knew, or shall know. But there are three classes of
physicians, and those who are your friends bulong to the
first. The first class are those who conscientiously prescribe
stimulating drink as a medicine, believing it to bo beneficial.
The second class prescribe it because they do not know what
else to j)rescribe, and in their ignorance they take that
which comes handy. Tiiis class reminds me very mueli of
a physician who was very stingy ; and whenever he made up
prescriptions, if there was anything kft, he would put it into
a black bottle. In this bottle there was almost everything
you could think of, — castor-oil, mercury, salts, calomel,
laudnaum — everything, whether powder or draught, or what
not, he put what was left into the black bottle. Some one
once said to him, '• I suppose you think that is a saving, but
I should like to know what you do with it." " Do with it,"
said the physician, "I find it very useful, for when I get a
case with a complication of diseases that I don't thoroughly
tmderstand, I give him a dose out of the black bottle. " But
there is another class, and I do think they are interested in
some of our breweries — I do indeed 1 I have been very busy
lately in gathering up physieian's prescriptions, and the
other day I had quite a bundle sent me. Among others, I
have a prescription, signed by the surgeon of a certain hOvS-
pital, as the diet for an individual : " Two glasses of brandy
and water, eight glasses of port wine, one bottle of porter,
and one pint of milk." And what do you suppose ails the pa-
tient? He has got a sprained ancle. 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 gentle-
man, who took the place of a surgeon in another hospital, told
me that there was prescribed for one man, eighty-six gal-

205

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Ions of J. in six months, arul tho nian'ri disorder was an
ulcer in the Ici^:. Tnu ulcer had a liin round it nearly half
an inch ; but the hour was disconiinued, and it koou after-
wards camu up even v\ ith the surface.

I do not say that medical men are always dishonest, hut
let mo give you a case ihat occurred in a touu in Ku.vland.
An upholsterer in that town constantly sulfered fromseiious
hilious attuks ; and he paid his doctor a pretty round bill
every year, besides sendiiiti; him all the furniture he wanted.
At last, the upholsterer signed the i)ledgc, and at the next
settling the bills were about S(|uare ; but at the end of the
next year the patient had not had a single visit, nor 4akea
a single dose of medicine so that the doctor had to pay him
the whole bill. The doctor then -aid, " You «ecm to have
got over your bilious attacks." " O yes, pretty well ; I am
a teetotaler." "A teetotaler,— How lung?" "Since the 1st
of January last." " My dear fellow," said the doctor, "you
have taken a new lease of your life ; 1 shall never be .called
upon to attend you for bilious attacks again, I assure
yon." Now, wh" wa«; not that said bt3foi'' ? an i wiiyshotild
ho go on doctoring his patient year after year, and with-
hold from him the advice which he most needed?

But I am told sometimes, " Your movement is an infidel
one " I positively deny it. " But you have got iutidels in
your hociety." To be sure we have, and how can wo turn
them out? Ours is not a religious or sectarian movement,
I hate this miserable spirit of exclusiveness that will never
do a good thing for a neighbor unless it is in company
with those who believe and subscribe to the same articleb
as ycu. 1 believe the church of Christ has power to re-
8trair4 and regulate every moral movement by identifying
itself with it, and in no other way. I believe, too, that
thero is more infidelity occasioned by the inconsistencies
of prof ssing Christians than by all the teetotalism in the
land. I have a letter from a servant girl, — i know, per-
haps, some of you will say that she is only a servant
girl. She is a human being, and she will stand with you
to be judged for the deeds done in the body, before
Him who is no respecter of person ; and she says, "Oh I £
could tell you a story of my own sufferings that would
make you shudder, although I have heaid you speak, and
know that you have seen a great deal. 1 am in a very good
situation. My mistress is a professing Christian, and a
member of a chapel ; but she sends me twice a day, Sun-
days not excepted, to a low public-house for beer. After I

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206

have been to chapel at night, I am sent out for the beer ;
the place is crowded; tho language I hear is awful and
disgusting ; the temptation surrounding me is terrible. I
would work for half the wages if I could get into a teetotal
family. I remonstrated with my mistress, and she told
me I wad carrying my teetotal ism too far." Now I ask
^hat opinion must that girl have of the religion of her
mistress ? Here is a principle which, if adopted, will keep
every woman out of the dram shop ; and there is more to
be heard of what savors of the nethermost hell in your
dram shops than anywhere else out of perdition. It is a
disgrace for any lady to send her girl to the public-house to
get b(?er. If she wants beer, let her go herself or send her
own daughter. Such a practice is cruel, — it is unchri'^tian ;
and inconsistencies like that make men despise religion
more than all the teetotalism in the land.

Ours, then, is not a sectarian movement. It never has
been made so in the United States. I remember in Cin-
cinnatti we were once about to hold a series of twenty-eight
meetings. Mr. Barnum was there at the time with Jenny
Lind. She had sung in some of the places of worship, and
it was not thought improper. They said she was a lady,
and some said she was a Christian. They paid a pretty
high price for the places of worship, and they were granted
—I do not say for that rea?on. The Wesleyan Chapel is
the largest building in the city (I have seen more than five
thousand children in it at one time), and Mr. Barnum pro-
posed to give five thousand dollars for it for five nights. A
meeting of trustees was held, and some of them said, " "We
are in debt, and shculd really like the money, and Miss
Lind has sung at other places." One of the trustees said,
" Do you know that the temperance friends are about to
apply for it to hold twelve meetings, and they are to be at
the same time that Mr. Barnum wishes to have the place
for Jenny Lind." " Then that settles the matter at once,"
said the trustees; Mr. Barnum cannot have it; we will
open the place for the temperance friends, and sweep and
light and garnish it, and let them have it free." And wo
did have it free; and the trustees gave up the five thousand
dollars for the concerts. Was there any injury done to the
cause of religion there ? No I We held those twenty-eight
meetings. One of them was a prayer meeting, and I never
was at such a prayer meeting in my life. There were more
than a thousand pf;rsons there. An episcopal clergyman
sat in the pulpit as president; and I remember old Dr.

207

Beechor, Mrs. Stowe's father, asked m^^ to say a few words.
I did it just for ten minntes, and when I went down from the
pulpit, he grasped my hand. I saw tears running down
his cheekfj, and he said, '-God Almighty bless ) ou " There
were miraisteis of all denominations there. There was a
large meeting of Methodist ministers t^laewhere, and only
two or three of them could come ; bat they sent lettt-rs of
sympathy with tlic movement. Did that, think you, injure
the cause of religion? There was a great state convention
held in Worcester, Massachusetts, and a temperance con-
vention happened to be appointed on two days when the
convention of Congregational ministers of New England
was to meet at Lowill. In the midst of their delibt^anons
a hundred miles distant, it was notified that a deputation
from the Congregational convention had come to sympa-
thise with them. They were received standing up. The
venerable Dr. Hitchcock, President of Amhurst College,
was spokesman. Two doctors of liivinity .ame with him,
carrying with them the tull sympathy and hearty prayers
of the convention, a hundred miles distant. Did that injure
the cause of religion ? Let the religious men in this country
identify themselves with this movement, and they would
soon sift out everv particle of infideliy from it.

I will detain you but a moment or two longer. I feel
exce-^dingly weary. I have now had about two years and
three months steady work, and the only rest I have had
has been the two weeks spynt preparing to come to this
country, and one week since I hi^.ve been here. I have
been constantly travelling and speaking, and I am looking
forward to the 14th, — next Monday, as being the winding
U:» of my labors for the present, and I am trying to keep
myself up just to get through with them. 1 know T have
come before you not in a fit state of tody or mind to
address a public audience, but I throw myself entirely
on your generosity. I never disappoint an audience by non-
appearance, if I can help it ; only once have I done it from
illness ; but I often disappoint them, I know, with my speech.

We believ ! we shall succeed; we want your help Will
you give it r.s? Are not our principles lawful? Is there
anything contrary to Scrij)ture re(piiiement in them ? Now
some persons find fault with me for not going far enough
in the question I but I will tell you how far I go. I am
ignorant i"*. reference I o Hebrew or Greek — I never was at
a school since I wax twelve years of age — and T am notable
to discuss the questions of the wines of Scripture, whether

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they wnrfi intnxicatinij: or not; and if I were to attempt to
do so, some Bibilical critic might say to mo, " I deny your
proposition, and challenge you to a public discnssioa on the
8u»'Ject." How should I look then? I don't know any-
thing about it. 1 don't know j/ain from tirosh, nor tirosh
from something else ; so that I should be overwhelmed, I
simply, therefore, take ray own grou"'d ; leaving the other
for I hose vrho are better able to discuss it There is your
chairman here, and the Rev. Mr. Keid, they might do it.
Dr. Frederick Lees, who is going to speak to-morrow night,
he might do it — he has done it. But for myself I will give
you all you ask. I vill even give you this -that the Bible
permits the use of wine, that it approves the use of wine j
and — 1 dtm't believe this, but I will give it you — that the
wines permitt-id in Scripture were both intoxicating and
unintoxicating; and that there ia nothing said against the
/use of intoxicating liquor. Even admitting that— though
I don't believe it — it is enough for me, and it ought to be
•enough for any one who professes to love the Lord Jesus
Christ, and to love his brother, that it is lawful for him to
abstain from an article for the use of his brother. That is
all I want. Is there a word in the Bible against abstain-
ing ? I believe it is not only lawful, but expedient. I
believe with glorious St. Paul that it is good neither
to eat flesh, nor drink wini.^, nor do anything whereby
my brother stumbleth. On that ground I advocate the
total abstinence principle, and demand for it the aid and
sympathy of the Christian church. I do not consider that
a man should need a "thus saith the Lord" before he would
go out of his way to help a suiferini? brother. I do not
think that a man should search the Bible and sec how far
he may gratify himself without committing positive sin ; I
v/ould rather search the Bible to see if I might give up that
which was a gratification to me without sin, for the benefit
of my brother. If meat make my brother offend, I will
give it up; and I will endeavour to break up the drinking
customs of society because my brother is injured by them.
Then will you not help us in this enterprise? I believe wo
shall succeed. I believe in a day of triumph for every good
enterprise; I believe that songs of triumph will yet be
sung; I believe there will be joy in heaven, and that the
triumphs of this great enterprise shall u^iher in the day of
the triumphs of the cross of Christ. That you may be in-
duced to look at this nvttter seriously, prayerfiiiiy, reason-
ably, is the sit.cere and earnest prayer »>f him who in weari-
ness of body and mind bids you good-night.

THE LIQUOR TRAl'FIC.

AN ORATION BY JOHN B. GOUGE:

VsAvared at Exdvr 11(11, Thunsday^ AujjM. ^^)t^l. 1?54.
Rev. \N. HE ID IN THE fHAlR.

LADiKr5 AND Gentlkmen, — Thiis cvcning has been to mo one of
peculiar enjoyment. I have heard more saM upon the sub-
ject of tHmperance this evening (an;: 1 have thoroughly en-
joying it) than I have heard since I have been in this
country at any one time ; and it has seemed to me almost
strange that I was permiitcd to sit and hear. 1 felt the tlood
run to the tips of my fingers more than once, and 1 have
struck my hands together till. they begin to feel a little ten-
der ; (1 wonder if everybody's hands feel so), for 1 have not
had an opportunity of bringing them together in a temper-
ance meeting for so long a time bifore. I hardly know,
either, what to say for myself. I must say something, and
yet my mind is somewhat bewildered by wha*" 1 have heard;
not that it has been very bewildering, but there have been
so many things presenting themselves to my mind while I
have been sitting here, that I hardly know what to begin
with. There has, however, been so much said to-night in
reference to our work that I may, I trust, profitably speak to
one particular point. Since I have been in London I have
spoken on the moderate dr'nking customs of society ; I have
spoken on the work of prevention among the children ; I
have spoken of the ladies; but I have said but very little in
this metropolis? wiih regard to a certain class of the com-
munity who may, perhaps, consider themselves slighted if I
do not pay a little more particular attention to them, and
therefore I wish to say a little to-night about the liquor-sel-
lers and their business.

Your respected Chairman — and I am sure none in this
house can respect or love him more than I do — has been
speaking to you of the progress of our enterprise. Ours has
been a progressive work. Why, ladies and grntlemen, we
say to-day what we dare not have said twenty years ago.
Wc look back on the pant, and we gather courage to go into
the future,— to fight this battle, trusting to God. The Tem-
perance enterprise has been a progressive work. The first
time 1 saw Niagara Fulls I thought 1 might draw a parallel

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210

between the stream, rapids and cataract, and the stream^
rapids and cataract of drunkenness. Up above it was bright
^mooth and plossy; thousands embarked on that placid
stream; the ripple at the bow and the silvery wake they
left behind them only added to their enjoyment, as th3y
glided down and got into the lapids, and were swept on
with fearful rapidity, and sont into the gulf at the rate of
30,000, 40,000, and 50,000 a year. It was a fearful waste of
human life. The good friends of the movement, seeing this
terrible destruction, went up the stream ; and they cried
out to the people — " Back I back 1 for your lives : none es-
cape who get into those rapids, except by a miracle. Back,
back, for your soul's sake, for no drunkard can inherit eternal
life," And they kept many back. Still there was the
stream in spite of their efforts. By and by, men in the pure
spirit of benevolence, began to devise some means to rescue
those who got into the rapids ; and they constructed a
bridge, right over the verga of the cataract. They caught the
poor, battered, drowning, shrieking wretches, that had come
to the edge, and picked them up, and set them on the bridge,
— bound up their woundu, and then sent them up the stream
to tell others how they felt when they were getting into the ra-
pids. They showed the scars on their limbs, tht-y kept thou-
sands back ; but there is the stream. Men upon the bridge, and
on the bankSjplead with hands uplifted ; still there is a stream
of them pouring into eternity. Let us go and see what is
the matter; and away up yonder we find men whose sole
business is to push them in. Now, then, what shall we do?
We will go right up there, and with the might and power
that God has given us, we will stop that murderous business
and that is common sense. If you will allow me to use the
illustration, our work has been very like a game of nine-pins.
We have bten very busy in picking up the pins, but direct-
ly we set them up, the publican has begun rolling to knock
them down again. We have gone in and picked up the pins
and said — It is good work to set them up on their f^et ; but
the ball came rolling in again and knocked them down
in every direction. But the cry has gone forth; it has
gathered strength from the valleys, and by and by will rise
like thunder, and will be poured into the ears of the Legis-
lature — Stop that ball ! And when public sentiment cries
out it will be obeyed and the ball will be stopped.

Now, I have been laboring for the last six, I might say
for the last eight years, in ref-rence to this one great
point, — not the restraining, not the regulation, but the utter

211

annihilation oi the liquor traffic. I have been laboring
for this in America. Ah, and I tell you we have begun to
see daylight ; ay, daylight that will usher in the day of
our triumph by and by.

But we will talk on practical points, if you please, for the
few moments that I shall occupy your actention. We in
the United States — expecially in the Northern States, and
I believe some of the Middle States — are rousing the people
to wage war against this traffic ; and we are perfectly willing
to give reasons why we hate the traffic. I say " loe " — I judge
my brother teetotalers by my.self — for if I should only give
you my opinion against the traffic, this audience would be
dismissed in five minutes ; but that would not answer. I
am bound to give my reasons, unless I am a coward and a
slanderer. My opinions, then, are very easily expressed,.
They may not be yours, to be sure ; but I hate the traffic
in intoxicating liquor. <'Hate!" hate is a little word;
there is not a string of words in the vocabulary of the
English language to express my utter loathing, and detes-
tation, and abhorrence, and hate of the liquor traffic. I
consider it — you do not, but I do — an intolerably mean
business. I consider it — you do not, I do — an intolerably
wicked business. I have been — God forgive me! as I
trust he has — an intemperate man. The iron has entered
my soul ; I have the marks upon me morally and physi-
cally. — I look back on the fire from which I was snatched
as a brand ; and it seems to burn fiercer the farther I get
from it. I think of the bed of torture on which I lay for
years ; and the iron appears to be sharper than ever. 'And
I remember how I felt in my very soul. Oh, yes ; I re-
member well the wreath that I had bound round my own
brow, which had become to me a band of infamy burning
into my brain. I remember all that. There is not a day
but I remember it. And sometimes at night I have sprung
from my bed, the perspiration standing in beads upon my
brow ; and I have prayed God, as I never pray at other
times, by his mighty power to save me. And it is because
I have dreamed that I have tasted the damnable drink that
brought so much misery and wretchedness upon me. When
1 look, as I do look, into what I believe to be the future of
the drunkard, I can say — and say it in all sincerity — Father
in Heaven, If it bo thy will that man shall suffer what-
ever seemeth good of temporal evil in thy sight, impose it
upon me! Let the bread of affliction be given me to eat;
take from me the friends of my confidence ; let the cold

If k

212

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Is-.i

ma ^(

iff! (■■«!,:

hut of poverty be my dwelling-place ; let the wasting hand
of disease inflict its painful torments; let me sow in the
whirlwind ; let me rt^ap in the storm ; let those have me
in derision that are younger than I ; let the passing away
of my welfare be like the fleeting of a cloud, and the shouts
of mine enemit-s like the rushing of waters; when I antici-
pate good let evil anno}' me ; when I look for light let dark-
ness come upon me ; let the terrors of death be ever before
me — do all that ; but save me, merciful God 1 save me from
the fate of the drunkard. And I say, not with your opinion,
or yours, or yours, but with my view of the traffic in intoxi-
cating liquors, as I shall answer for it in the day in which
Ave shall give account — so help me God! if I would not
rather be what I have been as a drunkard, than I would
stand up and deal out drink to my fellow-men. T would
rather be the blear-eyed, blotched, staggering, blaspheming
drunkard, than I would be the man to stand behind the
counter and give him the drink that made h'fm. drunk for
money. You may think this very hard ; but I have had
some experience about it. A man s experience is worth all
the ideas that have ever been written ; and I say I have no
right to express an opinion without giving a reason for it.
And I will express my opinions, and give you my reasons
briefly.

In the first place, it is a useless business. There is not
a man here — I care not who he may be — I care not if he
is a publican or a distiller — that knows not in his heart
of hearts that this metropolis would bo better off without
3, beer-house or a gin-shop than it is now. Some say,
however, that there is some good in the traflic, because
it increases the revenue. Like letting water into a ship
through a five-inch pipe, and pumping it out through a
goose-quill ! Well, I won't insult the common intelligence
and judgment of this audience in speaking for one minute
in reference to that argument, — that it increases the
revenue. It is a useless business. Why, the liquor-seller
is the only man 1 know of that is ashamed of his own
manufacture. In the Great Exhibition of '.851, when
manufactures were brought from all parts of the earth,
every manufacture was exhibited but one. We had a
tnechanics' fair in the city of Boston. I told Moses Grant
there was everything there, from a toothpick to a loco-
motive — carpets, and cloths, and silks, and people there to
show the texture of the silk, and tell the visitors how
it was woven ; but there was only one article of manu-

213

facturc not represented. He went and got a man who
was once worth 40,000 dollars, but who was debased and
ruined through the drink, and he agreed witn him for a dol-
lar a-day logo aud stand in that fair wifh a hibel in front of
him: — ' I was once worth 40,000 dollais. I was onci; re-
speeied and respectable, I once moved in good society.
Such things as 1 now am are made ont of such mt- n as I once
was. Please to give ns a premium for one of the best speci-
men to be found in this city." But they would not let him
in! The liquor seller is the only man who is ashamed of
his own manufacture. A boy was passing by a dram-shop
and, seeing a drunkard lying in front, came and knocked at
the door, and said, '' iMister, your sign's fell down :" and the
liquor-seller chased him half round the s(iuire, he was so
angry. It is a usel-ss business; and ustdess as it is, you
have to pay for it. You pay for that traflic more than you
pay for religion, education, and, I believe, governm.nt, all
put together, if you will not believe this, just investigate.
Why, 1 believe you would save money — we have ascert lined
this in the United States — to pension a publican, giving him
a handsome sum to live upon, that ho should sell no more
drink. Mr. Barnum, you know, is a famous speculator. He
said once in Tripler Hall, before ahout 4,000 peopK^ : — "I
am ready to make an agreement with the Mayor, and Alder-
men, an<i City Council of New York-, that if they will give
me the money tliat is expended in intoxicating liquor in this
city, I will pay the whole jiau[)er tax, [ will give a barrel of
flour to every family, I will give a library of a hundred
volumes to every family, I will give as handsome a suit of
broadcloth as can be picked out to every male in the city, X
will give a handsome silk dress to every female in the city,
—old or young, rich or poor, little or big — I will give one
million of dollars for the privilege, and I will give the whole
city a free admission to the American Museum; and then I
find that I should clear about eight million dollars by the
transaction.

The crime produced by drink you know very well. I do
not believe you have had a murder in London without drink.
Find me one, if you can. I do not believe that poor wretch-
ed woman would have murdered her six children, if she had
not been drunk. Here you are sending the trembling wretch
to the gallows, hanging between the heavens a id the eart;h,
as the effect produced by — what? By the drink. In the
United States I have been accustomed to speak in state
prisons — although 1 was not allowed to do so in this country,

Wf\

when the wife of a poor, niiserablo creatnve wanted mo to
speak to her husband — and having botjn permitted to ask the
question, "What bronLfht you here?" the answtT almost
invariably has beew, "Drink, drink, drink !" I remember in
New Hampshire prison I saw a very benevolent-looking man
seated before me. The chaplain said, " Do yon see that
man?" "Yes." " I want you to notice him particulHrly."
I did. "T lat man," said he, "is hero for murder." "What I
a man like that?" " Yes, for the murder of his wife," When
I went round. I took hold of his hand and said to him,
'•Now, my friend, I have heard of your crime, and am per-
fectly astonished when I look at you, and I want to know
the reason why you did it." He looked at me a moment and
said, "Yes, 1 loved my wife and children as well as any man
in New Hampshire ever loved a wife and child. I loved
them, sir; but I drank — I drank — I neglected them. It
vent on and on ; my wife's face grew paler, and her eye larg-
er, and I caught her many and many a time weeping bitter-
ly ; and it made me mad — mad with myself; I knew I was
causing it; and then," said he, I would wish she was dead.
I could not bear to see that pale, pleading face everywhere,
—at the corner of the street, in the dram-shop, in the very
glass 1 would see her glittering eye upon me ; and it made me
mad — mad, sir. And somtitimes I would be sober for a week
or two, and then 1 would feel sorry I had ever said a word
to her; but d ink I must, and then 1 would wish her dead.
One day I came into the house ; she did not hear me ; she
did not know I was there. She was seated upon a chair,
with her eil)Ow on the the table, and her pale face lay upon
her hand, and the comb had fallen from her hair, and her
long hair (she had beautiful hair) hung all down her
shoulders. And I stood and looked ; and I saw the tears
rolling down her checks, one after another. The devil en-
tered into me. I went into the next room ; I got a rifle and
shot her dead ! I am here ; I do not expect to get out ; I want
no pardon. I am sentenced to prison for life. But, oh I sir,
believe me, believe me," and he grasped my hand, " believe
me, I never would have done i*-, if it had not been for the
drink. Oh, no 1" The Gov<u'norof York Castle told me : — "If
it was not for the drink, we should have nothing to do here."
One of the offloers of B dmin Gaol told me: — "If it was
not for the drink, we should be empty here." A 3'ear
before the Maine liquor law was passed, the mayor of the
city of Portland proposed that the house of correction
should be enlarged. On the next first of April he told

215

the comraoa ceuncil that they nofd uot cDlargo it, for it
was empty aud to let, not having a prisoner in it, — that
from the 25th of October to the last of March there had
not been one commitment. -As we dry up tliese fountains,
60 we find that the streams are dried up also. But I will
not detain you on that point. We have to pay for it ; and
we have to pay for it in many ways Not by direct
taxation ; we are indirectly taxed to support a great deal
of it. Do you know that sober men pay ihc drunkard's
debts and support the drunkard ? They arc supported.
And who supports them? You do. They spend the
proceeds of their labour in the dram-shops, and you take
care of them and their lamilies.

I hate the traffic because of its hardening influence. I
have heard some people get up and say in America — and
they say hard things about the traffic there, and the people
like to h«^ar them — I have heard it proved, (I am not going
to prove it, you know ; I won't say what I believe about
it) that a liquor seller is worse than a counterfeit, and
worse than a highway robber, and the people have agreed
to it. I once saw a picture divided in two ; on one side
was a representation of a man preseutiag a pistol to another,
and saying, "Your money or your life j" on the other, a
publican was holding out a glass of liquor to a man, with
these words, " Your money and a.nd your life ; and underneath
were the wordt^, <' Which is the worst?" You know some
people say the liquor-seller has no soul, no conscience,
no benevolence, no sympathy. But this is all wrong. Some
of your large publicans, and brewers, and distillers, are
largely benevolent ; but put these men into their business,
and you shut them out from all sympathy with their fel-
low-men, as far as their trade is concerned. I remember
when I began to lecture, one of them made use of the ex-
pression, " Damn you, we will bring your nose down to the
bull-ring yet, you cold-water blackguard." There is my
friend Currie, who once lived in a wretched garret, paying,
I believe, 2.s. 3d. a week rent, who now has his own house,
for which he has paid £600. How many dram-seller are
there in London who would glory in making him drunk.?
The very business itself stands between a man and his
victim. I have been often in the outskirts of this great
metropolis, and I have thought that if a heathen should
come into this country, he would say — " Why the gin-shop
seems to be the pioneer of the very settlements of your
metropolis. And what is worse is, that some whom we

216

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»»:*t-'

letl wo oufrht to call good mori, are invostinff their pro-
perty for the purpose of sellinti: thtir inauufacture there,
and debasing and degra<iing a whole nei^dilxnu liood. If
you want to know wliat the eft'tct of the traffic is in
London, go where tliore are the most dram shops ; go into
the New Cut on a Sunday morning, or go as 1 di<i, last
Sunday afti-rnoon, about two o'elock. I felt my blood boi!
when 1 saw rehpectable men's names on those public-
houses, with their " entire " under them. I could not help
it. Miserable men and women clustering like bees, wait-
ing till the time arrived tor oj)ening. Yes, and before the
time I saw many a man slip in quitely, after looking up
and down the street to see if there was a policeman near.

Another reason for Avaging war against the traftio is out
of love to the liquor seller. I hate no man j^ I have no
bitterness of feeling towards any iran. I am bound to love
my brother. My professions of love to God are not worth
anything if I do not love my neighbour; and I am bound
to love every liquor seller as well as every poor drunkard;
and I feel that while I am battling with the business that
puts a curse upon him, I am doing him the greatest service
possible.

Another reason why we claim annihilation of this traffic
is, because we bave no redress or protection. Our cry is
protection I Protection for whom ? Protection for our-
selves, and for our wives, and children, who have it not.
Why what protection have we? A poor woman went into
a dram-shop and asked the liquor seller to sell her husband
no more drink. The thin and lean fingers of agony had
traced burning characters upon her face, and she came to
plead for her husband. What was the liquor seller's
answer? lie took a tumbler, and dipped it in the refuse
of his beor, and threw the contents in her face. She went
home and told her husband. He went to that man's shop,
and flogged him so that he did not stand up for two days.
He prosecuted the drunkard, and had him fined five dollars
and costs for assault and battery. He turned round and
prosecuted the liquor selb^r for throwing dirty water in
the face of his wife, and it was proved that she was inter-
fering with his business. Suppose my father was a drunk-
ard — though thank God he never was — suppose he had in
his system an appitite, as many a man has ; and suppose I
had begged hiia and prayed him to abstain for my sake,
for his own sake, for his soul's sake, trom drink, and he
had told me that he would. Sapposing I bad said, " Father,

217

you shall have every thinff you want in ihn world, only
kct'p (jul of tho dram-shop." Ho goes out into the stnjct
for a litt'e fresh air; I go to tho pulillcau and say to Ijim,
" Dou't give my father any dritik if ho eonios here; you
know what ho is when ho gets (hunk ; ho hroidis the furni-
ture, ho heats his wife, ho abuses me; but when ho is
sober ho is very quiet, and I huj)0 ho is a Christian; hut
do not give him any drink." My father m;iy bo watehing
by tho door of tho public-house; tho publiean may be stand-
ing there, and ho may say, " Mr. Gough, that is your name,
r. believe; you havo a son speaUing on tho temperf.nce
question; very good thing, Mr. (Jough. I undorstaud that
you have been a soldier." " Yes, I have." You have a medal
for your service, I believe." " Yes, I have.' Now, there he
will iiavo touched my father on aj)oint upon which ho is a little
sensitive, " Will you walk in, Mr. Goiigh ; I should like to
sec your medal," now, my father is well pleased to talk about
v/ars, and battles, and soon; and ho goes in. Will you have
a little to drink, Mr. Gough ?" " Oh, no, no I" Ho thinks of
his son ; ho thinks of his son's wife, and ho says — " You may
see tho medal ; but I do not want anything to drink," but
wanting something all the while. " Oh, I don't want you to
drink, Mr. Gough, but I just want to ask your opinion. I
have some French brandies that have been sent me by a
friend, and I do not know whether tbey are exactly pure or
not; if you would be kind enough to give mo your opinion
I shoukl be very much obliged to yon." Now, he may tempt
and coax my father, and after all get him to partake of the
braudy ; and you know that if he drinks one glass he will
have another. That man, after having coa.xed him to drink
— after having cheated him to drink- -may take every six-
pence he has of money, may take his very medal from him
and give him drink, may take his coat off his back and give
him drink; and when he is so drunk that ho cannot stand
up, he pushes him out in the street, either to be picked up by
the police and carried to tho station, or to lie in tho gutter
and die. And I have no redress ; there is no law for m°,
but I must take up my father's dead body if ho Is there, and
bury him without a word, or say as little about it as possible.
I havo no redress — no protection. Now, what we want is
something by virtue of wliic-h we may build a wall of pro-
tection around ourselves, our wives and our children. I
know some say, use moral suasion Very well ; moral sua-
sion is a very good thing ; but I would not give a fig for all
moral suasion can do with a man who has no moral principle.

218

mm'

I beliovo the devil must sometimes be rooted out by main
force, and tlien you will have a vacuum in which you can
turn round and use moral suasion. Now, we do not believe
in mob law, or any kind of persecution, and are in favor of
pievention and protection by prohibition ; and we found in
the United States that we could not be protected without
prohibition. Why, they are finding a little difficulty In
Scotland in reference to this matter, and they will find a dif-
ficulty. The law, you know, is an honorable profession ; and
there are many men who are an honor to an honorable pro-
fession ; and I wish to say nothing against the law. Some
of the best men that ever lived have practised law ; but we
have got, and so have you, a set of miserable, dirty, petty-
foggers, that would take a fee, if every sixpence of it was
blistered with the widow's tears, and thcat widow their own
mother — that would take a fee if every shilling was crusted
with blooi : and these men, to whom the publicans with us
generally go to defend their cause, are men who will do
anything for money. You will find a case like this ; for
instance : Here is a man brought up for selling liquor ; a
witness comes,- -or you may, if you please, go in and swear
thatacertain man went into that publican's shop and bought
brandy and water, and drank it eight times ; and you havo
got it down in your note-book : — " | after 10, first glass ; |
past 10, second glass; .1, third glass." You have the very
time marked, and you can prove it by other witnesses. Ho
was sober when he went in, and so drunk when he came out
that you had to lift him into a cab and get him home. 'Vill
that prove that the man sold him liquor? Oh! no. Up
jumps Mr. Lawyer to question the witness. " Gentlemen of
the jury, I ask }our particular attention while I propound a
few qu stions to the witness. If I understood you, you have
distinctly stated that this individual procured brandy at the
shop of my respectable client?" "Yes, sir; that is what I
said.'' " Now, sir, remember you are on your oath ; you have
taken an oath, sir, to tell the truth, and nothing but the
truth. You swear that this individual procured brandy at
the shop of my respectable client : now I ask you, sir, how
do you know that it was brandy V" " Why, he asked for
brandy." " Oh I ah I I have nothing to do with what he asked
for. Gentlemen of the jury, mark the equivocation of this wit-
ness. I have nothing to do with what he asked for How
did you know it was brandy ?" '« Why he asked—" " Gentle-
men, 1 have nothing to do with what he asked for. He might
have asked for corrosive sublimate, but he might not hare

219

got it. Now, sir, I want you to remember that they can color
water to present the prcoiso appearance of brandy : did yon
snKdl it?" "Wliy, I pniclt a groat deal of litjuor." "Oh!
did you Knu'll the identical article that you have so presurnp-
tuou'.ly stated to thia ruspcctublc jury wa:^ brandv ?" "No,
I did not smell if " Did you taste it ?" " ;:o, sir.' » Now
then, remember, t;ir, you may be deceived. Remember,
sir, that toast and water Bometimcs looks V(!iy much like
pale brandy; remember, sir, tltat it mif^ht not have Iteen
brandy, and you are on your oath, sir, remember that_ Now,
taking all these things into conr-ldcration, s;ir, are you pre-
pared before this respectable jury to bay, that that man
urank brandy procured of my client?" «' IV'ell, no ; I should
not be williuj:'- to swear to that." « That will do ; you need
not say anything further." The whole case is dismissed be-
cause it is not proved. And tliat is the farce enacted and
re-enacted again and again in the name of law. Now, we
believe that only by sweeping this traffic away, and prohib-
iting it entirely, shall we be successful ; making the pos-
session of the articles and implements of trade satisfactory
evidence of ita being carried on, and laying the burden of
proof on the liquor-seller himself. Tn Amcirica the traffic is
being swept out of town after town, and village after village,
and will be, until not a vestige of it shall remain. We have
borne long enough with it, until patience seems to cease be-
ing a virtue. I heard of an old man once, a very patient man ;
he was never known to express his opinions or sentiments
but once. He had got a lot of hay up, all ready to cart ; the
rain came and welted it ; he did not say anything, but made
the hay again. The rain came a second time and wetted it ;
he drew down his face and made it again. He got it on the
carta third time, and thought he was perfectly safe ; he wap
going through a brook of water with it and one of the wheels
of the cart came otf, and the hay fell in. He said nothing
but raked out as much of the hay as he could, and made it
again. He got it on the cart a fourth time, and the wind be-
ing very high, the barn-door came off, and threw it on the
top of the old man. Some one came to his assistance and
picked him up, and when ho recovered from his liattening
process, he opened hivS mouth and spoke : " Well, 1 begin to
think that under existing circumstances it is almost time
for me tc express myself." And we in the United States
have a feeling now, that under existing circumstances it is
about time for us to express ourselves ; and the public are
expressing themselves in a way not to be misunderstood.

220

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IV'.'

I know a grr;at ninny people say, that it is hard to
wage war against this traffic — that a trreat many very re-
gp«Mtab1o men are engaged in it. I have nothing to say
against the respectability of the men ; I am dtmonncitig
tiie busiT}ess, and you will excuse me for saying that 1
do not think it a respectable business because there is no
good produced by it, but a ])nsitive amount of evil, paup-
erism and crime, misery and wretchednesss, wiihotit one
I)article of L^ood to counterbalance it. It may be hard up-
on the manufacturer ; but has it not been hard upon others ?
Is it not hard upon thousands of poor women and child-
ren in this city to-day? Is it not hard upon many that
are sent out into the streets this night? Ay, you may
suppose that all of them lie ; I do not believe all of them
do. I do not believe that the poor, pale-faced, gaunt
girl did that hung with both her hands upon ray arm, af-
ter I had looked at her with some decree of svmpathy,
and she begg 'd me for something. " Oh !" said she, " I
don't want money ; buy me a bicof bread, a bit of bread,
please, for I am hungry," "Where do you live?'' ''Oh I"
said she, " my father is a drunkard, and he beat me cru-
elly, and 1 am hungry." She was a young girl, about
sixteen years of age. You may tell me they lie; but I
believed her, and helped her, and I will help her again.
Oh ! thei . is suffering produced by it more than if all those
engaged in the business should be turned out of that
business to-day. I know a great many people have an
idea that property is much more valuable than humanity.
We are warring against property for the sake of humanity
— for the sake of the miserable and the wretched, and the
oppicssed, and the down-trodden, Temptations that are
in the way of the weak we seek to remove ; and we know
of no other way to do it than by classing the liquor traf-
fic among crimes ; and you never can get a prohibitory
law unless you make it a crime. What do you want with
laws to restrain or control an honorable business, a busi-
ness not wicked in itself? AVe maintain in the United
States that the liquor business is a crime, a sin against
humanity, a sin against the people, a sin against the com-
monwealth, a sin against the State, a sin against God.
And we believe in prohibiting that which is evil. And
it it is prohibited, it must be done by effectual means.
Some say, "Use less stringent measures." How can we
have them? As a gentleman told me, all attempts to
regulate this traffic are just like persecuting the liquor

seller. My doctrine is tbis : — if it is right fof a man to
sell liquor, let him sell and never trouble him ; it' it is
wrong, prevent him from selling and do not trouble him —
just quietly lift him out of his business. It is just us if a
man hiw a very bad tooth, and the opt rator puts in an in-
strument and just gives one turn. "Oh, dear; oh, dear!'
You have not done him any good. He is very angry and
knocks his lists together. Put him in tlie cliair a<4ai;i, and
give the instrument another turn. "Oh!"' Yoa have nut
done him any good, Ik; spits blood dnadfully. T'le best
plan is to set him down in the chair again : give the tooth
one turn, and it is out, and he is much better than before.
That is just the way with regulating the business. It is
like a man who went to gt:t shaved. The barber gave
one draw with the razor. Up the man jiunped. "Olx !"
said he. "What's the matter?" "It pulls. '"" Never mind."
paid tiie barber, " sit dovvn again, fiiend. If the handle of
the razor don't break, the beard is bound to come off." If
the handle of this miglity lever don't break, the liquor sel-
lers are bound to come out, tliongh it is very hard. We had
at one time some liquor sellers in i>aol. A bad plac^ to put
them, is it not? A bad place for their victims. I like the
idea they have in Ohio. They have not a Maine law there ;
but they hare a law that makes the liquor seller responsible
for the effects of his business, and that aVout amounts to a
Maine law. If a man goes to a drnm-sliop and g( ts drunk,
and if it can bo proved that he dies through drink, that
dram-seller is bound to support his wife and family ; and if
he cannot do it, he is sold out and nuitle a pau[)er of, anil
the money his goods fetch is given to the widow. Now,
that is fair. I heard of a gentleman once who had a great
party invited, and he had no lish. He told the steward he
must have some fish whatever price he paid. The steward
eaiue and said there was a man had a tine turbot, but he
would not let him have it unless he gave him a hundred
lashes on his back. "The man is a fool," said the gentle-
man ; '• but you must have the fish, r.iing him in," The
tish was brought, and the man had Ufty lashes given to him.
Afterwards he said, " Hold on a minute ! I've got a partner
in the business.'' "What, two such fools?' " Y't^s ; your
porter would not let me come in with tiiis tish until I agreed
to give him half what I got for it."' "Bring him in, then,
and let him have it. Now, you have a law that will put
a drunkard in gaol for drunkenness. Set him at work— -saw-
ing stonn or anything else ; you are hound to put the liquor

222

seller at the other end of the saw, and let them look one
another in the face. But in seven States of the Union we
have a prohibitory law. And althoua^h many persons — fome
of them who have been in America — come and say th(

Maine law is a failnro: we sat

li \

'To

ma vers of the citiis,

cothmon councilmen in the cities, the pcotile of the State
of Maine, do not say it is a failure; tlie legislature do
not say it is a failure. To lie sure, it was not quite so
perfect when it was lirst given as they are making it now :
but every session they are adding amendments to it ami
making it still stronger: and every State that is passing
the law is putting still furtlier amendments to it. In
Vermont now, if a man is Totrnd ilrunlc, In- is taken up,
and kept till he is sober, and under oath he is made to tell
where he got the li((Uor, and the seller is prosecuted on that
man's testimony. The people cry out for the law. But
in this country we are told that the public sentiment is not
ripe for the law. It is ripe for a discussion at any rate, and
that the friends of the temperance enterprise are bound tr.
give them. And we will pour the truth on this subject into
the ears of the people until they shall wake. 'i'hey are
waking up. The cry is everywhere, " GIac us something
to stop this terrible tide of desolation." And wuen men
ask for something, we know tiiat they are moving one step
in the right direction ; for that something their common
simse and sound judgment will ttdl them must l)e a some-
thing that will do the work thoroughly. I know it is said
in reference to these laws in the United States, tiiat they
j,rt» very stringent. They must be stringent. Governoi-
Brigifs told me there was a man in Portland who said he
would but a hundred dollars tnat they could not break
him up. They said they did not want to make any l)et —
that th \y would try ; and be said he had two thousand
dollars that he would spend upon the trial. Ve-ry well, they
said ; they would give him a chance to [)ay some of it awfiy.
They let him go on steadily for some weeks. He sold liciuor,
and laughed at them — he did not care niiything about the
law — hc; would sell as long as he liked. At last they brought
him up to the Mayor's offlee, and they fined him ten dollars,
and co-;ts, npon the first complaint that was heard. H*^ paid
down the money and was going out quite impudently ; but
just as he got to the door, an oflicer served a writ upon him,
and brought him back again. The next fine was twenty
dollars and costs. He paid that, and was going o:.t again.
The officer then served another writ upon him, and brought

223

him back apjain, and the third time it was twenty dollars and
costs, and three months in the common gaol. " I will appeal
from the decision of this court." " Very well, sir ; find two
sureties in one hundred dollars each, that you will prosecute
the appeal, and not violate any provisions of the laws for
the suppression of j(roL;-shops and tippling-houses while the
appeal is pending, and we shall be prepared to try the other
cases : an officer will attend you for the purpose of jjefcting
the required securities." ''Other cases! how many have
you got, then?' '♦ We have got seventy-three." " Seventy-
three ! Gentlemen, did you say ?" " Yes, there are seventy-
three. Sir.' "May I lookat thecom.plaints?" " If you please."
" Have you got the witnesses ?" " That room is full of wit-
nesses. ■' " Well, gentlemen, if you will give up, I wjl "
" That is all we want."

Now, if you are goiug to do anything, begin right. I am
th.»nkful for the one or two hours cut oh' on the Sabbath dav.
It is a little rained ; but we will not be satisfied with that

to'

We thank you for what you have given us; and I say, God
bless the men who are willing to receive light enough in
their minds to pass that bill ; and we will have soiiiething
better next time. You will have that Forbes Mackenzie's
Bill in Great Britain, I trust, before I leave it to go to the
land of my adoption. Tht.u every dram-shop will be closed
<m the whole of the Sabbath day, and we will go on from one
thing to another till victory shall perch upon our banner. I
say we are engaged, I believe, in the right. We wage war
against the traflic in intoxicating liquor to annihilation ; and
we wage that war for the sake of the liquor-seller,— for
the sake of down-trodden humanity, — for the sake of the
wives {fnd children of wretched drunkards, for the sake ot
the intemperate themselves, — for the sake of those who are
• xposed to the temptations by which they arc surrounded
on all sides in this city of snares; and they are lifting up
their hands and pleading for us before the throne of Him in
wljose hands are the hearts of all men.

Two minutes more, and then you will be detained by me
no longer. It is now a few days over one year since I s ood
in this glorious Hall for the first time in my life. I came to
this country intending to remain with you six weeks ; I had
made positive appointments at home, in America, to com-
mence labor on the first of October; I felt that in coming to
this country I was only coming to gratify a few individuals,
who were friends to the temperance enterprise. I said, from
the first, that I believed it was a mistake in bringing me to

224

■ i

r^l

this country, for my style of speaking would not suit our
English people. I came before you. Tiiis is the last night
of ray present engagement with the London Tempt;rance
League ; and I must say, 1 honor the members of that Com-
mittee more than I should be permitted to say upon this
platform. I say to you that I am independent of this
League ; I have nothing to do with them nor they with me,
excep't being bound together by the ties of fraternal love,
and, 1 believe, on the part of some, of affection. Yet I say
to you, this League has claims upon your sympathy, your
aid, and your co-operation. Have ihey not, I ask you, with-
in the past three ye irs, done well for the temperance eater-
prise? Have not they supported and sustained the dignity
of temperance enterprise? and that is something, ^lave
not they made the enterprise to be respected in the eyes of
those who have gazed upon it? And on this last night that
J speak for them, un^ier the present engagement (but I
am going to enter into anotluT', I will say, they have
claims upon your sympathy, your aid, your influence and
your co-operation.

There are many advocates of the temperance question
here — men that 1 love. God bless them! In my heart of
hearts 1 love them, for their work's sake, and my hand
shall ever be given to them in friendship, God helping me.
1 say to you, brethren, let us stand last together ; let us
have faith as men in our principles, and faith in God. Let
none attempt to disturb our harmony. Oh! the devil will
send his agents to mar every good work, by making divi-
sions among the leaders of that good work. Brethren, let
us be united. You may take a bundle of twigs, a hundred
thousand of them, and you ma> bring them one by one
and nreak them upon the knee, and they are only lit for
the fire; but bind the hundred thousand together, with
the three-fold cord of unity, and fidelity, and love — fidelity
to principles, uni*y of purpose, and love to each other, and
the hosts of hell, combined with all the powers on earth,
cannot break that bundle. Brethren, let us stand together
in this movement: let us feel the dignity of our enterprise ;
and let us pray God earnestly for his blessing to rest upon
us. W(j can do nothing without it. We must have the
religious element in this movement: and I rejoice that in
this count:*y the people are seeing it to be so. And we
have much of the religious element : and I believe that
this society, for whom I am speaking for the last time at
this period, has done much to enlist the sympathy of the

225

religious portion of the community to this enterpise ; and
they deserve the thanks of those who love the onward
progress of truth, and the onward progress of the gospel.
Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you. There are old
friends here; I can see them — friends from a distance,
friends I love. I never was treated better in my life than
I have been in old England and in Scotland. My heart
warms to the old mother country ; I ashure you. I never
dreamed of it when I came here ; and I say to you, I have
many thanks to give you. That God may bless you, throw
the mantle of his love around you, and save you, and all
dear to you, from the curse of drunkenness, is the sincere
prayer of him who is your humble and obedient servant
in all things to command, in reference to the temperance
movement, and who now bids you good-night.

Printed by A. Lawson & Co., King Street, Hamilton.