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VV KOCIRTY C(et0ta((r'5 C0tit))ani0n : A 11 A N D -JUTOK •••. 8n U4 1 43 12 19 23 30 »3 34 40 ... . 47 49 53 60 62 •...< 67 .... 70 71 •88 72 74 , ... 78 28 44 51 65 82 1] Seetota(er*s Companion. *^ /V^K^N Av /• vz-'x /•N^s Beminisoenoes of the Fast ; or the Bl^^^hted Home. p. T. WINSKILL. I oft am called upon to say why I from drink abstain ? And why all spoken in its praise doth fill my heart with pain? Why fire seems from my eye to flash, and why my bosom heaves ? Listen, and I'll a tale unfold that pierces whilst it grieves. Again I see my childhood's home, and the loved ones gather- ed there ; Brothers and sisters, father dear and mother in her chair ; There all is pleasant, bright, and fair, no threatening cloud is seen, But peace, true love and joy abound where once deep grief had been. How sweet and pleasant is the sight that rises now to view I Behold, in humble faith, their hearts pour forth to God his due; TEETOTALERS COMPANION. t' ( If ' The Book is closed, they humbly kneel, the voice of their sire is heard Breathing in simple, fervent prayer, thanksgivings to the Lord. Thanks for life, and health and strength, and praise for mercies past ; Prayers for grace to overcome, and rise to heaven at last. See how the tears course down his cheeks as the prayer ascends on high, " Lord, bless the efforts that arc made to bring poor drunk- ards nigh 1" " Let Temperance men thy blessing feel doth rest upon their cause ; And soon may those for whom we plead repent and love thy laws. Preserve our children from that curse which we so long have borne ; May they delight in virtue's ways, and never from thee turn !" Such are the scenes these eyes beheld, — such was once our home; But the foul destroyer came, and now through darker scenes we roam. A few short years sped swiftly on and worked an awful change ; Prayer and praise were heard no more, but songs obscene and scenes quite strange. No more we saw that manly form stand forth to preach the Word of Life ; We saw no more the friendly tear, but blows succeeding words of strife. Nor saw we now the people throng in multitude to hear The words which oft, in fervent tones, he poured into the ear; teetotaler's companion. 8 f their to the ise I'or last, prayer drunk- t upon ove thy so long >m thee ►nee our )r scenes n awful obscene jach the cceeding to hear into the Words which told of sin's deep dye ; of man's forlorn and wretched state ; Of God's great love in his dear Son, to save us from the sinner's fate ; Words which, as they fell on the drunkard's ear, touched his hardened heart, The conscience rous'd, the fountain stirr'd, and caused the tear to start. Many are the homes strong drink has curs'd, and many hearts that are sad Were happily through his efforts blessed— despairing souls made glad. But ah ! how frail is sinful man, soon are his glories fled Now he's happy, virtuous, sober ; now to virtue dead ! Soon, alas •! we were forsaken ; home and hearth despised —forgot ; And our sire, strong drink pursuing, sought ruin in the pot. See that group ; how deep their anguish ! Hear that little darling cry — "Mamma I poor baby hungry ; give me cake or baby die!" Scenes like this are of^repeated ; soon the mother's hope is gone; Hopmg 'gainst hope for comfort ; but alas I for her there s none ! Was they ne'er a brighter prospect ? Did that victim ne'er repent ? Saw he not his wife's deep anguish, his children's tears, and ne'er relent ? Who can tell how great his suffering — paint the miseries that he felt When, restored to sober reason, by that couch he humbly knelt, 4 teetotaler's companion. Bath'd in tears of deepest anguish, groaning, mourning o'er his sin ; Praying that he might have power to quench the fire that burnt within. Many a time and oft he promised that from drink he would abstain ; But some fiend, in human likeness, urged him ''not at once to abstain." Urge f in tones of seeming friendship, lauded, praised the moaerate plan ; Said, " Be sober, act not rashly ; take a little and be a man." Delusive snare, devised by Satan, enemy of all mankind. Few, alas ! of God's best creatures try it but destruction find t Find, alas I and to their sorrow, 'tis a dark and treacherous road ; Xeading unto death and ruin, far from peace and far from God. Step by step were we degraded, till at length, without a home, Into the open street they thrust us, caring not where we might roam , But a faithful Christian found us kindly shelter from the cold. May the peace of God be with him, now that he is growing old! Toiling, starving, and degraded, I, a youth, was sick at heart. « By my dying mother's counsel, I from them at length did part. To a distant town I wandered, and employment there ob- tained; Shelter, clothing, food and comfort, by my labour soon I - gained. \ teetotaler's companion. 6 A few short months, there tidings came of my poor mother's death. No fond hushand stood beside her, watching her departing breath. At a tavern he was drinking liquid fire that burns the braia, Trying to forget his misery ; but alas ! 'twas all in vain. O'er her corpse I stood beside him and beheld his sufferings there. Love, remorse, and guilt united, filled his soul with dark despair ; For a time he nobly labour'd to obtain his children food; But no sympathy was shown him : none believed that he'd do good. ; . With no Christian friend to aid him, with an enemy within. Who can wonder that he struggled but in vain to fly 6rom sin? Ere another year passed o'er us, he was numbered with the dead, And the youngest of the children was to a union work- house led. Thus were we bereft of parents, left to fight our way alone. Widely-scattered amidst strangers, home or pleasure we had none. O'er their graves I've since repeated vows I made in days of yore. That the demon drink should find me fighting 'gainst him evermore. «r By those vows renewed in manhood, by the bitter tears I've shed: By the memories of my childhood, by t^ie sufiierings of the dead ; 6 teetotalers' companion. By the mournful wail of lost ones, by those starving chil- dren's cry ; By the homes that still are ruined, that pledge I'll keep until I die. A Kan's a Man for a' That. CHARLES MACKAY. " A man's a man," says Robert Burns, « For a' that and a^ that ;" But though the song be clear and strong, It lacks a note for a' that. The lout who'd shirk his daily work, Yet claim his wage and a' that, Or beg, when he might earn his bread, Is not a man for a' that. If all who dine on homely fare Were true and brave, and a' that, And none whose garb is '' hodden grey," Was fool or knave, and a' that. The vice and crime that shame our time Would fade and fail and a' that, And ploughmen be as good as kings, And churls as earls for a' that. You see yon brawny, blustering sot, Who swaggers, swears, and a' ^hat, And thinks, because his strong right arm Might fell an ox and a' that, That he's as noble, man for man, As duke or lord, and a' that; He's but a brute, beyond dibpute. And not a man for a' that. ^ I chil- keep teetotaler's companion. A man may own a large estate, Have palace, park, and a' that. And not for birth, but honest worth. Be thrice a man for a' that ; And Donald herding on the muir. Who beats his wife and a' that, Be nothing but a rascal boor, Nor half a man for a' that. It comes to this, dear Robert Burns — The truth is old and a' that. — " The rank is but the guinea's stamp, The man's the gold for a' that." And though you'd put the minted mark On copper, brass, and a' that. The lie is gross, the cheat is plain, And will not pass for a' that. For a' that, and a' that, 'Tis soul and heart and a' that, That makes the king a gentleman, And not his crown and a' that. And man with man, if rich or poor, The best is he for a' that. Who stands erect, in self respect, And acts the man for a' that. 7 f Frozen to Death. ANONYMOUS. * Frozen to death, so young and fair — Regular features and large gray eyes, Flaxen hair, Braided with care, 8 teetotaler's companion. Slender body, as cold as ice ; Who knows her name, Her story, her fame ; Had she a good or an evil fame ; And who in Charity's name's to blame, That a girl so young yields up her breath. Frozen to death ? SecoAl Avenue — Fiftieth Street ? These are streetven t is there not in thine inmost heart a spirit of active mctaod, giving thee no rest till thou unfold it ? Complain not. Look up, wearied brother. Sec thy fellow-workmen surviving through eternity, the sacred band of immortals. The Dream of the Bevellers. CHARLES MACKAY. Around the board the guests were met, the lights above them gleaming. And in their cups, replenished oft, the ruddy wine was streaming ; Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes were bright, their hearts with pleasure bounded. The song was sung, the toast was given, and loud the revel sounded ; I drained my bumper with the rest, and cried, " Away with sorrow. Let me be happy for to-day, and care not for to-morrow !" teetotaler's companion. t)l But, as I spoke my sight grew dim, and slumber deep cauic o'er me, And 'mid the whirl of mingling tongues this vision passed before me : Methought I saw a demon rise ; he held a mighty beaker, Whose burnished sides ran daily o'er with floods of burning liquor ; Around him pressed a clamorous crowd, to taste his liquor greedy, But chiefly came the poor and sad, the suffering and the needy; All those oppressed by grief and debts, the dissolute and Blear-eyed old men and reckless youths, and palsied women crazy. ^'Give, give !" they cry, "give, give us drink, to drown *all thoughts of sorrow, If we are happy for to-day we care not for to-morrow .'" lihQ first drop warms their shivering skins, and drives away their sadness, The second lights their sunken eyes, and fills their souls with gladness ; The third drop makes them shout and roar, and play each furious antic, The fourth drop boils their very blood, and the fifth drop drives ih^m frantic. '* Drink !" says the demon, " drink your fill ! drink of these waters mellow. They'll make your bright eyes blear and dull, and tan your white skin yellow; They'll fill your home with care and grief, and clothe your backs with tatters, They'll fill your minds with evil thoughts — but neier mind-^ what matters ? 62 teetotaler's companion. ^' Though virtue sink, and reasoning fail, and social ties dissever, I'll be your friend in hour of need, and find you homes for ever. For I have built three mansions high, three strong and goodly houses, A workhouse for the jolly soul, who all his life carouses, A hospital to lodge the sot, oppressed by pain and anguish, A prison full of dungeons deep, where hopeless felons languish. So drain the cup, and drain again, and drown all thought of sorrow, Be happy if you can to-day ^ and never mind to-morrow /" But well he knows, this demon old, how vain is all his preaching, The ragged crew that round him flock are heedless of his teaching ; Even as they hear his fearful words, they cry, with shouts of laughter, " Out on the fool ! who mars to-day with thoughts of a hereafter ; We care not for your mansions three— we live but for the present, And merry will we make it yet, and quaff our bumpers pleasant." Loud laughs the fiend to hear them speak, and lifts his burning beaker — "Body and soul are miner* quoth he — "I'll have them both for liquor!" The Brave. J. E. CARPENTER. Wh "» are the brave ? the warriors bold That slaughter their fellow men for gold, That risk their lives in the battle fray ? Daring they are — not brave are they. \ teetotaler's companion. 63 ties s for and The Hindoo widow mounts the pile, And meets her death with a placid smile, The veriest coward for death will crave, — He who struggles for bread is the truly brave. Who are the brave ? the brave are they Who toil at t^e loom from day to day ; Who dig and delve in the open field For the miserly pittance their labour'll yield ; The millions who work with hand or head For little beyond their daily bread ; Ever to want, and never to save, — The rich man's slaves are the truly brave. Who are the brave ? the suffering host That never of wealth had chance to boast. Yet never have fallen or turned aside From the path of truth, or of honest pride : But who spurn the tempter, come what may, That their lives may be pure as the open day ; Who ask not a trophy to deck their grave, — The Honest and Poor are the truly brave. The Public Meeting. -k ,j»^ A DEBATE FOR FIVE MALES AND ONE FEMALE. The Chairman. — My young friends, we have met for the purpose of advocating the principles of abstinence from intoxi- cating drinks. Though we are but young, we are old enough to know that drunkenness is a great evil, and that moderate drinking is dangerous ; and, though some of the friends may desire to speak in favor of strong drink, I feel assured there are others here who will be prepared to meet their objections, I have now the pleasure of calling upon our stanch friend, Master John Drinkwater. — And I hope, Mr. Chair- 64 TEETOTALERS COMPANION. man, I shall ever be a credit to my name. I am not ashamed to own that I believe cold water is the best and cheapest drink in the world, and I never look on it without feelicg pleased. My good old aunt used to shake her head, and say, " Ah, Johnny, I'm sure water won't agree with you," but I went to see her the other day, and she was obliged to confess that I looked better than when mother gavf; me" beer. I saw a poor drunkard in the hands of the policeman yester- day, and I felt assured had he been a cold water drinker he would not have been there. I hope to induce all I can to drink cold water ; and I will invite as many children to attend the Band of Hope as possible. Master Littledrop. — Mr. Chairman, I do not like water, it makes me so cold , I greatly prefer taking a little bea*, it warms me and does me good. My father says it does him good also, and a great many good people take it ; and if they take it why should not I — and why should we not all take it, now and then ? Besides, it is so nice at Christmas-time to take a little elder wine, and to play at snap-dragons. I do not think that teetotalism would suit me, and therefore I could not desire others to abstain. Master Abstinence. — I rise, Mr. Chairman, to reply to the last speaker. He says cold water makes him so cold. This is a mistake : for the tendency of cold water is to make you feel warm ; and if you have a cold, the best thing you can tabe before you go to bed is a draught of water. This will induce a perspiration — and you will be better in the morning. The general rule is that hot drinks make you cold, and cold drinks make you warm. I know that beer seems to warm, but the man who drinks beer is not able to endure the cold as he who totally abstains. The last speaker asked why he should not take a little beer and wine now and then ; and he appears to think he could not be happy at Christmas without his wine and snap-dragons. Last Christ- mas I had the pleasure of spendin.- two or three pleasant evenings in the company 'f those who totally abstain, and wc were all very happy indeed; and we have the pleasure of r teetotaler's companion. 65 i knowing that no child was deceived by wine or strong drink. And we think there are several reasons why Master Little- drop should abstain. 1st, the little drop does no good ; 2nd, the little drop may create a love for the drink ; and, 3rd, th^ love for the drink may lead to drunkenness, and drun- kenness may lead to death. Therefore, we hope that Master Littledrop may be induced to abstain, and join at once our Band of Hope. Master Littledrop. —I certainly feel obliged to the last speaker, and feel that it would be a good thing to do away with strong drinks. If they do not do any good, at all events, I ihink as there are so many present who have tried it, and it appears to answer well, that it can not be wrong for me to give it a trial; and as you all look so happy at this Band of Hope meeting, I feel a desire to become a member, and so I shall be happy to sign the pledge. The Chairman. — I am glad the discussion has finished so well ; and now I am sure we shall all be pleased to hear a short speech in rhyme from Miss Sobriety ; after which, Master Temperance will finish the meeting. Miss fe^ iriety. — How happy would this nation be, If from intemperance it were free ! How quickly vice would disappear Without the aid of wine or beer ! Oh, how I love the temperance cause, It is so true to nature's laws ! To abstain from brandy, rum and gir, (The cause of so much pain and sin,) Our tables would be better spread With richer food and cheaper bread. We see the drunkard lost in shame, And hear him curse God's holy name — And shall we not for him give up The smiling, dangerous, tempting cup ? I've seen the wretched drunkard die In mortal, mental agony ; m TEETOTALER S COMPANION. , s And Uiousands now are on the road Which leads from virtue and from God ; Drink leads so many youths astray ; Drink fills their spirit with dismay; Drink fills their hearts with bad designs — Drink is the cause of blackest crimes ; Drink sinks its hopeless victims low ; Drink makes the mother's tears to flow ; ' ^ Drink pains the soul and stops the breath ; Drink is the child of sin and death. Oh, let us from this time begin To check this mighty, growing sin ; And ever look to heaven above, To fill our hearts with truth and love ; That this our hopeful temperance band Firm as the solid rock may stand, Until the nations, one and all, Are free from mighty alcohol. Haste, happy, bright and glorious day, Angel of temperance, speed thy way; Spread thy pinions, wing thy flight, And chase away the drunkard's night ; And let the wretched captive see The blessings of sobriety. 31ASTER Temperance. — I am delighted with this meet- ing ; we have had experience, oppositions, facts, arguments, a signature, and some well-said verses. I am glad to see such a meeting — and though we are but children we may do much good. Our parents love us ; and if some of them are not teetotalers, we may, by telling them what we have seen \ and heard, be the means of inducing them to abstain. lam > j happy to say that my father and mother, and br(^ers and ^ / sisters, are staunch teetotalers ; and I hope that we may all keep our pledge. We, doubtless, have some relations who are more or less injured by strong drink : so there is a great work for us to do, and young as we are let us strive to do it. We can speak to other children — we can tell them what { teetotaler's companion. 67 good has been done to many of our neighbors and friends— and we can ask them to attend our meetings. Let us strive to increase in numbers— tell all the children in the neighbor- hood, and if you can, speak kindly to the drunkard ; and young as we are, we may be the means of inducing him to abstain. We should all love the Band of Hope, and ever be grateful to our kind teachers for the instruction they impart to us. The Chairman. — I have been much delighted with this meeting; and I hope we shall be more in earnest than ever to make known the principle of temperance. I hope we shall remember what we have heard. I hope our next meet- ing will, if possible, be better than this. I hope we may all be enabled to keep our pledge. I hope that our parents and teachers may not be disappointed in our future career, and that it may be our happiness to have the pleasure of meeting in that world of bliss where Christ our Saviour lives and reigns at the right hand of his Father in glory. leet- jnts, see ydo are 3een !am and rail ivho reat )it. hat The Shadow on the Blind. S. Br. S. Alas ! what errors are sometimes committed, What blunders are made, what duties omitted, What scandals arise, what mischief is wrought Through the want of a moment's reflection and thought. How many a fair reputation has flown' Through a stab in the dark from some person unknown, Or some tale spread abroad with assiduous care, When the story the strictest inspection would bear ; -How often rage, malice, and envy are found ; How often contention and hatred abound Where true love should exist, and harmony dwell, Through a misunderstanding, alas ! who can tell ? Mr. Ferdinand Plum was a grocer by trade, By attention and tact he a fortune had made ; 68 teetotaler's companion. No tattler or maker of mischief was he, But as honest a man as you'd e'er wish to see. Of a chapel close by, he was dcucon, they say, And the minister lived just over the way. Mr. Plum was retiring to rest one night, He had just undressed and put out the light. And pulled back the blind,, as he peeped from behind ; , ('Tis the custom with many to do so you'll find), When, glancing his eye, he happened to spy On the blinds on the opposite side— oh, fie ! — Two shadows; each movement, of course he could see, And the people were quarrelling evidently. "Well, I never," said Plum, as he witnessed the strife, " I declare, 'tis the minister beating his wife !" The minister held a thick stick in his hand. And his wife ran away as he shook the brand. Whilst her shrieks and cries were quite shocking to hear, And the sounds came across most remarkably clear. " Well, things are deceiving, but seeing's believing," Said Plum to himself, as he turned into bed ; " Now, who would have thought that man could have fought, And beaten his wife on her shoulders and head With a great big stick, at least three inches thick ? I am sure her shrieks quite filled me with dread. I've a great mind to bring the whole of the thing Before the church-members; but, no, I have read A proverb which says, 'Least said soonest mended,' " And thus Mr. Plum's mild soliloquy ended. But, alas ! Mr. Plum's eldest daughter. Miss Jane, Saw the whole of the scene, and could not refrain From telling Miss Spot, and Miss Spot told again (^Though J qfcoursef in strict confidence) every one Whom she happened to meet, what the parson had done. So the news spread abroad, and soon reached the ear Of the parson himself, and he traced it, I hear. To the author, Miss Jane. Jane could not deny, (( teetotaler's companion. 69 >ar. i. 1 But at the same time she begged leave to defy The parson to prove she had uttered a lie. A church-meeting was called: Mr. Plum made a speech. He said, '' Friends, pray listen a while, I beseech. What my daughter has said is most certainly true. For I saw the whole scene on the same evening, too ; But, not wishing to make an unpleasantness rife, I did not tell even my daughter or wife. But, of course, as Miss Jane saw the whole of the act, I think it but right to attest to the fact." " 'Tis remarkably strange," the parson replied ; " It is plain Mr. Plum must something have spied ; Though the wife-beating story, of course, is denied ; And in that I can say I am grossly belied." While he ransacks his brain, and ponders, and tries To re-call any scene that could ever give rise To so monstrous a charge, — ^just then his wife cries,— " I Have it, my love, you remember that night When I had such a horrible, terrible fright. We both were retiring that evening to rest — I was seated, my dear, and but partly undressed — When a nasty large rat jumped close to my feet ; My shrieking was heard, I suppose, in the street ; You caught up the poker and ran round the room And at last knocked the rat and so sealed its doom. Our shadows, my love, must have played on the blind ; And thus is the mystery solved you will find." MORAL. Don't believe every tale that's handed about ; We have all enough faults and real failings without Being burdened with those of which there's a doubt ; If you study this tale, I think, too, you will find That a light should be placed in front, not behind, — For often strange shadows are seen on the blind. 70 teetotaler's companion. The Mitherless Bairn.* WILLIAM THOM. « When a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hamc, By aunty^ or cousin, or frecky grand-dame, Wha stands last an' lanely, an' sairly forfaim ? 'Tis the puir dowie laddie— the mitherless bairn ! The mitherless baimie creeps to his lane bed, Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head ; His wee hackit heelies are hard as the aim. An' lithless the lair o' the mitherless bairn. Aneath his cauld brow, siccan dreams hover there, 0' hands that wont kindly to kaim his dark hair ! But momin' brings clutches, a' reckless an' stern, That lo'e nae the looks o' the mitherless bairn ! The sister wha sang o'er his saftly rocked bed. Now rests in the mools where their mammie is laid ; While the father toils sair his wee bannock to earn, An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn. Her spirit that pass'd in yon hour o' his birth, Still watches his lane lorn wand'rings on earth, Recording in heaven the blessings they earn, Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn ! Oh ! speak him na harshly — he trembles the while, He bends to your bidding, he blesses your smile : — In their dark hour o' anguish, the heartless shall learn That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn ! ^A * To be repeated alternately with the next piece by a second person. teetotaler's companion. 71 0, learn M The BairnlesB Mither.* ANONYMOUS. The Poet sings sweet o' the " Mitherless Bairn j" An gars a' our hearts to feel sairly forfaim, For " the puir dowie laddie" sae sad an forlorn, An a' the cauld sorrows to which he is bom. But sing ye nae sang o' ane sadder by far, — Ken ye nae grief that aboon it is waur, — A sorrow 'neath which e'en the cauldest hearts swithcr, Oh! wha can speak peace to the "Baimless Mither?" The Mitherless Bairn a kind wordie will cheer An' a smile or a bannock will chase awa fear, Young hearts are aye blithesome — ^hope disnae soon wither But hope ne'er can come to the " Baimless Mither." She sees nae a' wean but it makes her heart sair, — An echo, deep echoes, each little voice there — Ah ! how lanely the ingle where awe a' thegither Her baimies play'd round the noo "Baimless Mither." She dwells mid the mem'ries o' days that are gane, Still sees them, an' hears them, an' clasps them again ; In fancy they call her, to joys that ne'er wither, — An' she pines to be wi' them that "Baimless Mither." Oh speak ye her saftly, for sair is her lot — " Lamentation and weeping because they are not," The Angels in pity are whispering with her, For the Lord kens the grief o' the "Baimless Mither." He alone sees the tears that in secret are shed. Hears the groans o' her heart o'er the hopes that have fled, "In the land o' the leal," they'll soon be thegither— For the Lord hears the prayer o' the " Baimless Mither." rson. ^To be repeated alternately with the Mitherless Bairn by a second person. I' 72 teetotaler's companion. The Bridge of Truth. ELLEN ROBERTS. It chanced a farmer, with his son, From market walked, their labour done. The son, in travels far abroad, With scenes mote his mind had stored ; Yet home reiarning not more wise, Though richer in amusing lies. A mastiflf dog now passed them by. And caught the son's admiring eye. "This dog," he said, "puts me in mind Of one far nobler of its kind, Which in my travels once I saw. Larger than any known before. It was, I think, as large, indeed* As neighbor Stedman's famous steed ; I'm sure you never had u horse To rival it in size or force." " Your tale is marvellous, my son, But think not yours the onJy one ? For I a prodigy can tell, To match your wondrous story well — A bridge we come to, by-and-by. That lets all down who tell a lie ; Down to the gulf below they fall, And vainly for deliverance call. 'Tis said, none ever yet could find The artist who this work designed ; But, sure it is, this very day We both shall cross it in our way." The startled youth turned deadly pale, Astonished at the fearful tale. " Nay, father, I have said too much, 'Tis clear the case could not be such ; b teetotaler's companion. 73 'A ^ For I remember being told, The dog was only nine months old ; And yet it was a creature rare, To which no others could compare ; I'm confident that it was quite Your very tallest heifer's height.". As nearer to the bridge they pressed, Again his sire the youth addressed : <( Large as our heifer, did I say. The dog I met the other day ? Nay, for that matter, you're too wise To think a dog could be this size ; But I could on my honor state, That it was pretty near as great, And, if may believe my eyes. Just like a full-grown calf in size." The fatal bridge, now close at hand, The stripling makes a final stand — " Father, at what a rate you walk ! Is this the bridge of which you talk ? Hear me, the truth I will declare : This foreign dog was not so rare, But much like others in its size. With little to create surprise." The bridge thus brought him to the test, And all his falsehoods were confess'd ! There is a bridge which must be passed By one and all of us at last ; To those whose refuge is in lies, 'Twill be, alas! a "bridge of sighs." Beneath it is a gulf of woe, Where those who "love a lie" must go ; But over, on the other side, A beauteous prospect, fair and wide. 74 teetotalers' companion. ' Once landed on this fearful bjridge^ > One step advanced upon ItftYidge, Eternal truth, without dugjiie, Will burst upon our staitlea eyes. May He who is the Way, the Truth, Direct aright the steps of youth, To do what's pleasing in His eyes, And " false ways" utterly despise. A ■..' The Duty and Importance of Calm Inquiry. f , ■ AffOWT-MOitTST Mr. a. — Pray, were'you at the anniversary of the Tem- perance Society last night ? Mr. B. — ^No, I do not approve of Temperance Societies. A. — As you have made up your mind, and thought it unnecessary to attend the annual meeting for information, I conclude that you have already taken the utmost pains to inform yourself upon the subject. Have you read the Re- port of the British House of Commons on the Extent, Causes and Evils of Drunkenness ? B.— No. A. — Of course you have read the Reports of the Ameri- can Temperance Society, now collected into a most valuable volume, entitled ''Permanent Documents?" B. — I have read none of these. A. — You surely then have read the writings of those authors who have devoted their attention to the subject in England, Scotland, Ireland and Canada ? B. — No, I cannot say I have. A. — Nor the various tracts published by the various Temperance societies ? ... B. — No, I say I have no time to read these things. • t\ teetotaler's companion. 75 j rem- ties. it it uon, IS to Re- tent, iieri- lablc hose ;t in lOUS I- B. — Oh, I know all about it ; it is all contained in a nutshell. A. — The clear-headed and perspicuous Paley has the following instructive observation : — " If we would inquire why the Roman governors, statesmen and philosophers, men of sense and education on other matters, were so grossly ignorant of the nature and tenets of Christianity, though it was professed by thousands before their eyes, and was fast becoming the religion of the Roman people, the answer is resolvable into a principle which is a bar against all inform- ation, which is proof against all arguments, and which can- not fail to keep a man in everlasting ignorance. This prin- ciple is Contempt prior to examination*' First, hear and examine, and then judge of a cause, is one of the plainest maxims of justice, sense and reason. It is a violation of all these, to prejudge either a person or subject, and condemn them without a fair hearing. Some persons, it is true, argue that they already know all that can be said upon a subject, and all the arguments that can be offered in its support, when they must be conscious that they have taken no pains to obtain the necessary information, nor read the arguments of others who have bestowed upon it their/time and attention. Thus, they take up their own crude notions and say, "I think so-and-so," and dismiss the subject. Now, this is precisely the way in which you have treated the subject of Temperance Societies ; you fancy that you already know all that can be said about them : but where did you obtain your information ? If, indeed, you had read the numerous valuable works already alluded to, and then made up your mind that you are master of the subject, there would be some sense in that ; but if not, let us pause a while, and soberly consider the matter. Let me advise you, my good friend, not to condemn yourself to perpetual ignorance on any one important subject; for I doubt not but there are many upon which you are a sensible man ; and why should you not be so upon all ? Why should you remain wilfully ignorant upon so important a subject as 76 TEETOTALER S COMPANION. this, involving, as it does, the happiness of millions of your fellow-creatures ? A. — ^Whence, then, did you derive your informatioriA since you seem to have so decidedly formed your opinion on the subject ? B. — Why am I bound to inquire into it at all ? A.— Because it has been proved by the evidence of wit- nesses examined before the British House of Commons, by the evidence of the keepers of many penitentiaries and jails in Great Britain, Ireland and Canada, by thetestimcny of the judges of the land, the Magistrates, the heads of the police department and the physicians of our public hospitals ; it has been proved, I say, by the united testimony of all these, that intemperance among the lower orders — the chief cause of which, we must admit, is the u-" . of fermented liquor as a beverage — is, directly or remotely, the cause of one-half of all the disease, two-thirds of all the poverty, and more than three-fourths of all the crime of Britain. It has been proved 'by the best statistical returns, that more than five hundred souls die weekly the death of the drunkard, and enter the drunkard's eternity — ;that the amount of misery endured by the fathers, mothers, sisters, wives and children of these wretched beings, exceeds all calculation— that in- temperance sends the drunkard home to abuse, and in many instances to murder, his helpless wife, and starve her chil- dren. Now, unless you can believe that all these witnesses have entered into a conspiracy, Without any assignable reason, to deceive the public, and that all such statements are false; when a remedy is proposed, and especially a remedy that cannot fail, if universally adopte<|, to secure a sober population, you are bound to give it at least your candid and serious attention. But these evils, great as they are, are not to be mentioned in comparison with the moral desolation, the wreck and ruin of all moral principle, pro- ' duced by intemperance. It is found by incontestable experience, that intemperance; sears the conscience, corrupts \ TEETOTALERS COMPANION. 77 the heart, and brings a blight upon every moral, every religious, every social and domestic feeling, and renders a man a nuisance to society, a sorrow and a curse to his family, and a suicide to himself in so dreadful a sense of the word, that it were good for him that he had never been born. Now, the origin and growth of intemperance have been \ ably traced to the mistaken customs of the age, and a remedy is proposed, which has wrought wonders in Maine, beyond all that could have been conceived possible, and has already done immense good in some parts of Canada, and which promises to become one of the greatest blessings to mankind. B. — 1 admit all the evils you have described ; but I do not believe that Temperance Societies will cure them. A. — You are taking th© best possible course to insure that they never shall, and if.everybody follows your example, of dismissing their claims without examination, and not even gi\ing them a fair hearing, they certainly nevei^ loill. But, my good sir, I say again, you have no right to form your opinion on this subject, which involves the happiness, temporal and eternal, of millions and millions of your fellow- 1 creatures, (and you know not for how many generations yet to ' come,) without bestowing upon it the most diligent examin- ation and all the thinking power that God has given you. If the cause werej^en thousand times more valuable than it is, CONTEMPT PRIOR TO EXAMINATION WOuld IcavC yOU still ignorant of its value. In you, it may be thoughtlessness; but there are some subjects upon which thoughtlessness is crime. Intempe- rance is making shipwreck of the happiness, corrupting the morals, and destroying the souls of your fellow-creatures by millions ; and if not arrested, the destroying flood will roll on to future generations ; a remedy is now proposed to « arrest the march of the destroyer ; and to refuse to weigh and examine its claims, is to incur guilt in the sight of i 78 teetotaler's companion. Heaven. By all the ties of country, by all the claims of humanity, by the spirit and the commands of the holy and benevolent religion of Christ, you are called upon to examine and inquire. The Tavern Abandoned. i . GEORGE ROY. 'Twas past two on the tavern clock, And still one bell did ring, While voices strong, a drinking song. In chorus full, did sing. 'Twas then, the tavern-keeper's pride — A child whose face was fair — Was kneeling at her mother's side To say her evening prayer. Her hands were clasped, her eyes were closed, Her little head did lie On mother's lap. 'Twas then that child, Did^ heave a childish sigh ; She ope'd her eyes, and said, " Mamma ! I will not pray, just yet ; For while those nasty songs I hear, I all my prayers forget." The mother looked perplexed, and sad : The child did farther say — " I don't think God could hear me, now, Although I were to pray — That singing is so very loud !" The mother, did not speak — ^ A big, round tear, is rolling now, Adown that mother's cheek. . teetotaler's companion. 79 s of and The song had ceased, the child had prayed, And now, was fast asleep ; 'Twas then, the tavern-keeper's wife, Did unrestrainedly weep. Her husband entering, said, " Thank God They all have gone at last ; The lights are out, and both the doors My hands have bolted fast." — He yawned, and sunk upon a chair, Then met his wife's sad eyes. "What ails thee, dear !" with falt'ring voice. The loving husband cries. The wife replied, — 'mid sobs, and tears,— " Ere Mary went to rest, She spoke some very simple words, That have my heart distressed : " Kneeling to pray, while that rude song Was ringing in her ear, She said, she could not pray ; and that— She thought, God could not hear. " Oh, John, we lead a wicked life — I feel this trade is cursed ; I wish I ne'er had been your wifel" — Her heart throbbed, as 'twould burst. No word, the awe-struck husband spoke, He gazed — in silent dread. His wife, at length, the silence broke, These words, she softly said — " I wronged myself, to say, that I Regret I am your wife ; I did but mean, that I regret. We both do lead this life !" I : : <' We'll leave it !" said the husband, then. 0, when !" the wife replies. (( 80* teetotaler's companion. " This very night !" Tears of delight Streamed from the wife's glad eyes. " I have no trade !'* the husband said. The wife said, " Never fear ; We'll trust in God, take virtue's road, And all shall soon seem clear !" She mirrored forth their way through life, In such a hopeful style. That sadness fled her husband's face, 'Twas then, they both did smile. ^* We may be rash," the husband said, Closing his eyes to sleep ; The wife replies, closing her eyes, * . "The vow, we've made, we'll keep." How swiftly change the scenes of life : The eyes, that late were streaming Are locked in sleep — husband and wife Of future times are dreaming. Full fifteen years, do pass away, In fancy ^ of the sleeper^ And still, the husband sees himself — Mine host, the tavern-keeper ; The patrons of his former days He now beholds no more ; Their burials, one by one, have passed Their favorite tavern door. His wife, now likes the tavern trade — Observing neighbors tell- And he doth blush--to know ic trije, She likes the trade— Uo well. His daughter, now is womar, rown — A lovely woman, truly- The father, sometimes, now doth think His child's not valued duly. TEETOTALEH'S COMPANION. 81 "The Tavern-keeper's Daughter," is The name she's best known by ; Or, " Pretty Moll" — at both these names, The beauteous girl doth cry. Now, he sees rude men salute her With coarse, licentious jest ; And he feels they must pollute her, Though she doth such detest. Amongst the crowds that call — there's one Who marked attention pays her : He's handsome, rich, and young. Oh, God ! That wicked youth — betrays her ! The husband wakened with a scream. "Be still!" the wife did cry, " You have broken quite my charming dream," He answered, with a sign. " Oh, John, I had a blissful dream !" The wife with rapture said ; " We were a long way down life's stream, You had a fortune made; '' We lived in a sweet, rural spot, Far from each city snare, And when we went to town, we drove Our family chaise and pair. <' Of children, we had ne'er but three, The other two were boys, And better sons, there could not be •, I dreamed of naCught but joys I " I need not tell you, all I dreamed : You waked me, as the carriage Drove away on a bridal day — The day of Mary's marriage." *' And was she wed!" the husband said. " She was !" the wife replied. 5 82 a a TEETOTALER S COMPANION. Our pastor's son, the eldest one, Claimed Mary, as his birde." Your way's the best!" the husband said. His dream, he did not tell ; But to this day, he oft does say, He liked his wife's dream well. That dream bids fair to be fulfilled, For, at the trade he chose. Few have been ever better skilled ; The change he never rues. I; William and Mary. GEORGE ROY. 'Twas midnight's deepest, darkest hour, The clock had just struck two, When Mary — lonely watching — raised The sash, the street to view. She strained her eyes, but nought could see Her drooping heart to cheer ; She listened — but his well-known step Fell not upon her ear. •• He soon must come !" she said — and yet Her heart o'erflowed with fear ; And slowly o'er her blighted cheek. There stole a burning tear. She inly pray'd to God for strength To bear her heavy fate. A drunkard s wife ! "No, no !" she cried — It is not yet to late li ''To turn him from his erring ways. Oh ! Father, touch his soul, teetotaler's companion. And cleanse him from this leprosy, For thou canst make him whole ; Oh ! let him see the drunkard's fate, In truth's own searching light, His children's crushed and bleeding hearts ; Oh ! rouse him with the sight "Of all the woes that fast approach His broken-hearted wife ; Oh ! turn his erring footsteps back From paths of death to life." She raised her eyes, and instantly A deadly fear came o'er her, For there — with looks of sullen wrath — Her husband stood before her. She knew not if he'd heard her prayer, His look was hard and cold ; And yet his voice was strangely husk, When he began to scold. " Why did you sit so long for me, You knew I must be late ?" " I did not know when you might come, And thought it best to wait." " You knew my business kept me late. And should have gone to bed." " Your business !" in a doubting tone, - The wife responding said. "Yes, business!" said the husband, then, In voice with anger hoarse ; "Oh! do not mock me," said the wife, With deep indignant force. " I speak the truth!" was the reply ; " I care not for your jeers, I care not for your canting prayers, I care not for your tears!" 83 84 teetotaler's companion. i : I " There is no need to tell me so," Keplied poor Mary, weeping ; " But speak, I pray, in sorter tones. Our children both are sleeping." a 11 ii I care not though they never wake ! The husband wildly cried ; " And leave me instantly 1" he said, • In stern and wrathful pride. " I will not leave vou 1" Mary said. In calm determmed voice ; You'll listen, now, to what I say, You must, you have no choice. " It is not for myself I speak — I have a mother's power ; And you must change your wicked ways, Or we shall part this hour ! I gave you love, God only knows How deep, how true, how strong ; And you, in base return, have done Me cruel, cruel wrong. " Ohl William, when you won my heart, And won my maiden vow. You well remember what I was. And you behold me now A blasted, withered, hopeless wretch. Upon that contrast think ! Then to your darling bottle cling. Your wife, your god, your drink 1" <' You're not afraid !" the husband said. " No ! wherefore should I fear— You are killing me by inches. And can but kill me here. And if my children go along, I'm ready now to go. teetotaler's companion. You tremble— but indeed I think It would be better so. '' I see for them no future, now, But beggary, and crime, And wretchedness, and misery ; I have no hope in time ! These dark forebodings crush my heart With such a weight of sadness, That oft I think, relief f/}\] come To me, in instant madness ! ''Yes! William, I'll go raving mad ! What ! are you shedding tears ? Then, God has touched your heart at length— Oh ! heaven, dispel my fears — And pardon, oh ! the bitter word.^ That I in wrath have spoken. Oh ! William, William, hold me up, I fear my heart is broken !" With tender care was Mary clasp'd. By William, as of old. And fast upon her pallid cheek His burning tear-drops rolled. At length he spoke, " My Mary dear, Forgive my errors past. And I, this night, will make a vow That with my life shall last, ^' Your tears, and prayers, and truthful words, Have broke the fatal spell ; And Grod, in his great mercy, snatched Me from a drunkard's hell ! For, with God's help, I now resolve To taste strong drink no more." This noble vow did Mary's peace Of heart and mind restore. 85 86 teetotaler's companion. In God-given strength, that vow was kept ; And now, where'er you roam. You will not find in Britain's isle, A sweeter Christian home ! The Mother and her Dying Child* N. P. WILLIS. They bore him to his mother, and he lay Upon her knees till noon — and then he died 1 She had watched every breath, and kept her hand Soft on his forehead, and gazed in upon The dreamy languor of his listless eye, And she had laid back all his sunny curls, And kiss'd his delicate lip, and lifted him Into her bosom till her heart grew strong — His beauty was so unlike death ! She leaned Over him now, that she might catch the low Sweet music of his breath, that she had learned To love when he was slumbering at her side In his unconscious infancy — " So still ! 'Tis a soft sleep. How beautiful he lies. With his fair forehead, and the rosy veins Playing so freshly in his sunny cheek ! How could they say that he would die ! Oh, God ! I could not lose him ! I have treasured all His childhood in my heart, and even now, As he has slept, my memory has been there, Counting like treasures all his winning ways— His unforgotten sweetness ; — "Yet so still I How like this breathless slumber is to death 1 I could believe that in this bosom now There was no pulse — it beats so languidly ! teetotaler's companion. 87 ►d! I cannot see it stir ; but hi^ red lip ! Death would not be so very beautiful ! And that half smile— would death have \chthat there? — And should I not have felt that he would die ? And have I not wept over him and prayed Morning and night for him ? — and could ho die ? — No — God will keep him ! He will be my pride Many long years to come, and this fair hair Will darken like his father's, and his eye Be of a deeper blue when he is grown j And he will be so tall, and I shall look With such a pride upon him ! He to die !" And the fond mother lifted his soft curls, And smiled, as 'twere a mockery to think That such fnir things could perish — — Suddenly Her hand shrank from him, and the color fled From her fix'd lip, and her supporting knees Were shook beneath her child. Her hand had touched His forehead, as she dallied with his hair — And it was cold — like clay ! Slow, very slow. Came the misgiving that her child was dead. She sat a moment, and her eyes were closed In a dumb prayer for strength, and then she took Hi3 little hand and pressed it earnestly — And put her lips to his — and look'd again Fearfully on him, then bending low, She whispered in his ear " My son! — my son !" And as the echo died, and not a sound Broke on the stillness, and he lay there still, Motionless on her knee— the truth would come ! And with a sharp, quick cry, as if her heart Were crushed, she lifted him and held him close Into her bosom— with a mother's thought — As if death had no power to touch him there. ^ v^^ ^*'^^. EMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 U&B2A B2.5 jig "^ ^^ ■ii 122 §22 us ■ 2.0 111^ iS M5 mu 11.6 t Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WBT MAIN STMiT WnSTII,N.Y. USiO (716)672-4503 r ^ 88 teetotaler's companion. The Beohuana Boy. THOMAS PBINGLE. I sat at noontide in my tent, And look'd across the Desert dun, That 'neath the cloudless firmament Lay gleaming in the sun, When from the bosom of the waste A swarthy stripling came in haste. With foot unshod and naked limb, And a tame springbok following him. He came with open aspect bland. And modestly before me stood. Caressing with a kindly hand That fawn of gentle brood ; Then, meekly gazing in mj face. Said in the language of his ^ace. With smiling look, yet pensive tone, " Stranger, I'm in the world alone !" " Poor boy," I said, " thy kindred's home. Beyond far Stormberg's ridges blue. Why hast thou left so young, to roam This desolate Karroo ?" The smile forsook him while I spoke ; And when again he silence broke. It was with many a stifled sigh He told this strange sad history. " I have no kindred !" said the boy : " The Bergenaars, by night they came. And raised their murder-shout of joy, While o'er our huts the flame Rush'd like a torrent ; and their yell Peal'd louder as our warriors fell In helpless heaps beneath their shot. One living man they left us not ! teetotaler's companion. 89 " The slaughter o'er, they gave the slain To feast the foul-beak' d birds of prey ; And with our herds across the plain They hurried us away — The widow'd mothers and their brood : Oft, in despair, for drink and food We vainly cried, they heeded not, But with sharp lash the captives smote. " Three days we track'd that dreary wild, Where thirst and anguish press'd us sore ; And many a mother and her child Lay down to rise no more : Behind us, on the desert brown, We saw the vultures swooping down ; And heard, as the grim light was falling, The gorged wolf to his comrade calling. " At length was heard a river sounding Midst that dry and dismal land. And like a troop of wild deer bounding, We hurried to its strand ; Among the madden' d cattle rushing. The crowd behind still forward pushing, Till in the flood our limbs were drench' d. And the fierce rage of thirst was quench'd. " Hoarse-roaring, dark, the broad Gareep In turbid streams was sweeping fast. Huge sea-cows in its eddies deep Loud snorting as we pass'd ; But that relentless robber clan Bight through those waters wild and wan Drove on like sheep our captive host, Nor staid to rescue wretches lost. " All shivering from the foaming flood, We stood upon the stranger's ground, 90 teetotaler's companion. When, with proud looks and gestures rude, The white men gather'd round : And tb.