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EDITED BY JAMES HUGHES, ESQ., Inspector of Public Schools, Toronto, OnL 1 TORONTO : -A.ID.A.3VE 1s/ltil.il.:ei:r »«» year had sea J^ ils^'^^.'"* "^^ -«» M and a for negieodng his'bSalltr'" *^"'^^''* ""> Abstemiou."^'/ iTr"'" ^""« *« '"^^ Mr. Squire's parlor "^ ^"^^ g'^^s in the ^^8,u:H.-Confo„nd the fe.low; .i„ ,, „„,,;,^ .ouTd^rr wlhtT, ""' ^'»^-' *o ^^^ - eo that;„u have J ' -™" ""«''' *<"'e .« abmty, an J kept Zm IT"^ " ^''"^ "^J-*- Poor drunkard ^ul! . f ""' '"*''^«'' *» 'he Joe the sober n.anTr '* '""' '"'™ ""'^"'ise; you would make some saoriLf f *"* *'"^' «fom the poor drunTarrstw;'""" '^' ^''''' *» SQUI«E-But I !jr ,, "" *""<""« ™- could leave off drLkt/"";.^' ^''«*^»»-> that I th. means oZZ^^l T, '"* *''* '* ^" "e retorming the whole community. THE MODERATE DRINKER. Jg WtewJ!"°''r '•'"""• <^"'"*») I'd lite to be spectable agam, Sq,„re. Maybe Vd jine, if you will oTer T- "'"* '^"^ """ ''*™ " ^""""'d good ^fluence upon othe«. Our object is not merely to refram from ,t ourselves, but, by setting up a safe and good example, to induce the intemperate to be come sober, and all othei-s to remain sober forever S,m„._Well, here comes Captain Littleson tf he^approves of your object, I don't W but I'll j^n [I^nter Captain Littleson.I be auil!"r~'^T! '™""«' g^''"^"'^; you seem to be qu te engaged m conversation. YouVe got Joe here, too, I perceive. ^ (i>^lo ^'" '''"''"' '" '-'- °° ""^ '^'■ w! Iff / t "'" "'"' '""'^ ^" the people to Jsi tii'zt^ rmtr"^-,,.- ~ "»- ™^h *,. \ "'"y "^'"'"S to come to ^uoh^terms myself, though 1 can do without it well Capta,k_I am glad to hear it. He has been tying to persuade me, too, for some time oast to milike :L T' *''« ""'^ <-; I find a great aJ; I V ^'^^' "'"^^ "f the most respect- able c.t..en, who never frequent mv tavern, or a!^ count, as they say, of the many W c«., that a^ 16 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. always Icteriog about, have stated to me, that if I would keep a temperance house, they would drop in occasionaly to look at the papo:3 and partake of some wholesome refreshments ; and that at the end of a year I would find that I had taken more money than I usually received from my rum-drinking cus tome... But that's not all. My mother and sister have absolutely set up nulUfication at home, and irrfr? "^ ™™^S '^*- hereafter they wUl not t^d the bar when I'm away, to sell, as they call it. hmd fire. This alone would be sufficient to make me shut up shop, if I had not now been convinced ttat It .s wrong to sell that which has entailed so much m«e,y not only in this city but aU over the all aback! This .s a wonder of wonders ! Whew f Mr. ABSTEM,ous-It is, indeed, a wonder. Cap- t^, as Joe says; for I had long given you up. But I suppose we are indebted to the gentle sex at home for this great change in your opinions. Ztl T t *'':' 'l"*'^^'- Y- ^" k»<>- Jock Hubbard. Poor fellow! You'll never see him any JoE_Is Jack dead, Cap'n? be present at such another scene for aJl the rum in the world. He died a perfect maniac; Mir^^Z ^« was h. end; and when I reflected that the last d.op of hquor was bought at my bar, and, in a great THE MODERATE DRINKER. 17 measure, the contents of my bar was the cause of his ruin and death — I thought it time to stop dealing death and destruction at a fip a glass. Hereafter I keep a temperance house. Joe — That's right, Captain; I'll patemize ye. {Drinks. ) Mr. Abstemious — Well, Squire, are you now con- vinced of the evils of drinking, and that your amend- ment to the pledge would still continue to make drunkards and reform none ? Squire — I must acknowledge, Mr. Abstemious, that you are right; and now, I believe, the only way to accomplish your ends is total abstinence from all that intoxicates. From this out I'll cease to take that Huh, and will join with you, heart and hand, to get up a Temperance Society in our city for men and women, and a section of Cadjets for our boys, the future hope of our great and glorious country. Captain — I'll unite with you, also, heart and soul, and may God forgive me for all the evils I have inflicted upon this community, by the zeal I shall henceforth show in the good work. Joe {musing to himself) — Poor Jack Hubbard, dead ! He was a real rummie ; many a spree we've had together, but now he's gone to his awful account! What a death to die ! Maybe it'll be my end ! Oh ! you cussed critter, {striking his jug) all my earnings have gone down your ugly throat. You hav'nt pisened me yet, but will, if I keep on using you. Squire {touching Joe on the shoulder) — What's the matter, Joe ; who are you talking to ? Did you hear H.. r, KUCITER. '^«" the Captain's decision? r. J»g away, you have hug^rf^J^^' "»-> 'W that ,, *• ^'■e Captain and r „ ^ ' " '"""S Poor then set about with Mr Ah ^ ■^"''^ *<> »«°. Wj Pe-nce Society, wf;.!^""""^ *» ™- a C We a auit of clothes aTh„/ ""^ """>«■ *°o. Joe. J Zi^l" "^ "»•"'* that- *"' "'"' -i" toows ««" ^gn, too; and you Mr 4k"'' °^ *">« «ity "'^'•'B,! would e,«t I sLu.;"'"'"''^' had I ti^ "»« yo-r hands-for't"'""^"-- •memory. Give f *.«"tletn.edesL'tL7' '"k""-^' ""^ fr-n^ ° the Captain's new i^T^rT"' ''* "^ ^ "ff et "^r^^f-p^-tiZro" r"""' ■"" -^« ''- ^^^^^ -Me the i«,„ ; iot?"P^'''"- Soci. (CURTAIN FALLS.) MANLY MODERATION. Adapted from J. B. Gough. CHARACTERS to|°rJ„';j"SaipI°''^™'^ ^™''« -ho thinks he „„ght SCENE I. Squire^ You are eh ? W. '' T o to you for thp in^ ! ®"' "'"^'^ obliged help. '"''' "■"•« »f »y=««- without your Mb. D.-I do not doubt it Mr. Brace SsuiHE-Neither do I I fi„d ,v™ V when I like and l«f ;* , ^''* ^ "=*» drink "eed any of t^ J 1'* '"""' "''«■' ^ "^e. I don't sober. ^ ''™^«* ^"'i''*'*^ to keep «« obM if ;ii^;rt:;t:"th^ *''^"'^^'"' "-' -^ y««. 1 be'ievfr? . ^*'' "' "^^ "«' to save ^ "*' '" '^'"^ ">«ierately, and you may b. :■ i •W CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. one of tbora. WJ)at I desire is that you give us the benefit of v„.tir exam])le. Think of the influence which you exert (j,/r the young men of our -neigh- bourhood. Squire {wnrmhj)~lt is exactly on those grounds, Mr. Dapperman, that I decidedly object to your agitation. Think for a moment about its effects upon those young men for whose welfare you are so much concerned. What are your teachings ? You say to them: (sneeringly) "Young men, take care, there is some danger, keep away from it. Fly from it and hide in the Total Abstinence City of Refuge." I, on the other hand, say, by v^f example : {pompously) «' Young men, there is a pobitioi. ,f danger, enter it manfully, don't be cow- ards. T.ook at me, I have met this danger bravely for the last thirty years. I have been exposed to the temptation for the whole of that period, but I grasped the tempter and strangled him. I developed self-government, self-control and self-reliance, so should yo«. Don't fly, be men— men of self-govern- ment, self-control and self-reliance." Now, Mr. Dapperman, don't i ra see the difierence between the eflfects of our examples ; you make your young men a lot of weak-minded mamby-pambys, utterly devoid of {this should he repeated in a rhymin,j monotonous manner) self-government, self-control, and self- reliance, while / teach them to become manly, courageous, and posse'..^d of self-government, self- control, and self-relianoe. Mr. Dapperman— D.' o^. ^hink, Mr. Bruce, MANLY MODERATION. n that a man's power to drink in moderation depends on his temperament ? I think I know some men who could no more drink in moderation than you could blow up a magazine moderately, or fire off a cannon by degrees. Squire — It's oil nonacise ; perfectly absurd, my dear sir. What one nan can do another can. That's my opinioi) , , ,o I tell young men to look at me, and follow my example, and develop self-government, self- control, and self-reliance. Mr. Dapperman— Well, Squire, I have not time to finish our argument this evening, so I must say " Good-bye " for the present. Squire — Good night. (curtain falls.) SCENE n. Tfie stage must now be arranged with a pit/all or trap- door, or a temporary bridge capable of supporting Mr. Dapperman without any danger, but which is certain to give way under the Squire. This can be accomplished by having some hidden support while Mr. Dapperman has to cross, which can be removed tvhen the Squire attempts to walk on it. In this scene Mr. DA?pyRMAN should speak and act with an assumed air of serio-comic pomposity, imitating as nearly us possible the gestures and manners of the Squire in the previous scene. ^ Squire (meeting Mr. Dapperman who comes on the platform frrnn the opposite side) — Good morning, Mr. Dapperman. 22 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. Mr. D. — Good morning, Squire, Have you changed your manly moderation principles yet ? Squire — No sir, {emphatically.) Nor am I likely to do so. Mr. D. — I am sorry for that, but as I am out for exercise I will, if you please, walk with you a short distance, and continue our discussion. Squire — I have no objections, for I assure you, you are not likely to convince me. Mr. D. — Well, you are a man of such influence that it is worth while to try to get you on the right side. Squire — I'm there already. Mr. D. {ivlio has now reached the bridge and i/i commencing to cross it) — You think so. Squire. Squire — I'm sure of it. {He seizes Mr. Dapper- man hy the arm, and endeavours to prevent his crossing the bridge.) Hold on, you are not going to trust that shaky looking bridge, are you ? Mr. D -Why not? Squire — Why its timbers are rotten. Take care, sir, you are almost certain to go down if you attempt to cross it. Mr. D.— Nonsense, Squire. {He shakes himself free.) Let me go. Why I've crossed this river on this bridge regularly during the last " thirty years.'' Of course, I know there's some danger, but I don't run away from it in a " cowardly" manner. I believe in facing it like a " man." I think it " develops self- government, self-control, and self-reliance," to do so. I cross it carefully. I exercise a dig-^ni-Jied mod-er- mmtammm MANLY MODERATION. 28 Ortion in crossing it, and I must say I have a good deal of contempt for any one who cannot do so. Squire — But, Mr. Dapperman, you forget that I am a much larger man than you are, and that, while you may cross in safety, I would be certain to go down, if I attempted to follow you. Mr. D. {derisively) — A weighty argument, surely. I'm surprised at you. Squire Bruce. What can your weight have to do with your falling 1 Look at me. {He struts cautiously in a provoking manner backwards and forwards on the bridge.) I've crossed this bridge for the last *' thirty years" and you know very well that " what one man can do another can." {He crosses.) Come, Squire, be a ^^man" and "follow my example." " Develop self-government, self- control, and self-reliance," you know. Glorious opportunity, you may never liave another so good. Squire — Well, I don't like the venture, but I won't be laughed at without trying. {He cautiously advances.) Mr. D. — That's right, cab.e-/uI-1' low. Do it in inod-er-RA (the Squire 2)lumps through with a scream.) Why didn't you do it by de-grees ? You have missed a golden opportunity for de-vel-op-ing self-govern- ment, self-control, and self-reliance. But I hope you are not hurt. Squire {spasmodically) — No, — but — didn't — I — tell — you — that — I'd — go — down 1 Mr. D. — Don't you think now, that one man may do in safety what would endanger the life of another ? Squire — Yes, I'll grant that, now. 24 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. Mr. D. — Don't you believe that it's rather difficult for some people to do some things in mod-er-a-tion ? Squire — Yes, I don't know but it is. Mr. D. — Won't you totally abstain from crossing dangerous bridges in the future ? Squire — Yes, I should think so. Mr. D. — Don't you think it would have been kinder in me to have avoided this bridge. Squire, although I knew that I was quite safe on it. Squire — Yes, 'twould have been just as well. Mr. D. {solemnly) — Don't you think that you ought to give up moderate drinking, if by doing what may be comparatively harmless to you, you are leading our young men to a bridge which may give way under them, and precipitate them into drunkenness and eternal death ? Squire — Yes, Mr. Dapperman, I see this matter in a new light, and I thank you for the lesson which you have taught me. Say nothing about your plan of convincing me, and I will promise to assist you in your undertaking with all my power. Mr. D. — I am most happy to accept your terms. Now, let me help you out of your difficulty. fCURTAIN FALLS.^ DON'T GO IN TO-NIGHT, JOHN. CHARACTERS : John, The Drunkard. His Wife, and three or four children. Mabt, her sister. SCENE I. An ale-hou<^: ; John is about to enter, bid his wife seizes him affectionately by the arm, and most pit- eousfy pleads with him, urging him not to enter. Both s/ioald be poorly dressed, and she should carry an imitation infant in lier arms. If pr^operly acted, this piece produces most affecting impressions, O don't go in to-night, John ! Now, husband, don't go in ! To spend our only shilling, John, "Would be a cruel sin. There's not a loaf at home, John ; There's not a coal, you know ; Though with hunger I am faint, John, And cold come^ down the snow. Then don't go in to-night I Ah, John, you must remember. And, John, I can't forget, When never foot of your's, John, Was in the ale-house set. 3 !•* 26 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. Ah, those were happy times, John, No quarrels then we knew, And none were happier in our lane Than I, dear John, and you. Then don't go in to-night ! You will not go ! John, John, I mind, When we were courting, few Had arm so strong, or step so firm. Or cheek so red as you ; But drink has stolen your strength, John, And paled your cheek to white, Has tottering made your young, firm tread, And bow'd your manly height. You'll not go in to-night ! You'll not go in ! Think on the day That made me, John, your wife. What pleasant talk that day we had Of all our future life ! Of how your steady earnings, John, No wasting should consume. But weekly some new comfort bring To deck our happy room. Then don't go in to-night ! Ah, little thought our neighbours then, And we as little thought, That ever, John, to rags like these By drink we should be brought. You won't go in to-night ! {He endeavours to free hiimelf from her.) don't go in to-night, JOHN. 27 And will you go ! If not for me, Yet for your baby stay ! You know, John, not a taste of food Has pass'd my lips to-day ; And tell your father, little one, 'Tis mine your life hangs on ; You will not spend the shilling, John 1 You'll give it him ? Come, John, Come home with us to-night ! (curtain falls.) SCENE n. John's house. His wife and her sister are discussing the change in his habits and its beneficial results. Time a little more than a year since the last seme. Mary — Why, sister, when I saw you last your heart was full of woe ; Your face was bleeding from a wound — your drunken husband's blow ; But what a change the years have wrought. Oh ! tell me, sister dear, What gave your face its happy smile ; your words their joyous cheer 1 Wife— My story, sister? Really now, I haven't much to say ; But if you'd called a year ago, and then again to-day, No need of words to tell you then, for your own eyes could see How much the Temperance cause has done for my dear John and me. 28 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. A year ago we hadn't flour to make a batch of bread,. And many a night these little ones went supperless to bed : Now, peep into the larder, see there's sugar, flour, and tea. And that is what the Temperance cause has done for John and me. It That pail that holds the butter now, John used to- fill with beer, But he hasn't spent a cent for drink for two months and a year ; He pays his debts, is strong and well, and kind as man can be, And that is what the Temperance cause has done for John and me. He used to sneak along the street, and look so mean and low, As if he didn't care to meet the folks he used to know; But now he looks them in the face, and steps off bold and free. And that is what the Temperance cause has done for John and me. A year ago those Itttle boys went strolling through the street. With scanty clothing on their backs, and nothing on their feet ; don't go in to-night, JOHN. 29 But now they've shoes and stockings, and warm gar- ments, as you see, And that is what the Temperance cause has done for John and me. The children were afraid of him, his coming stopped their play. But now, when supper time is o'er, and the table cleared away, The boys all frolic round his chair, the babe climbs on his knee. And that is what the Temperance cause has done for John and me. Ah ! those sad days are over, of son-ow and of pain, The children have their father back, and I my John again; (Weeps.) I pray excuse my weeping, for they're tears of joy to see How much the Temperance cause has done for my dear John and me. Each morning when he goes to work, I upward look and say : " Oh, Heavenly Father ! help dear John to keep his pledge to-day," ■ And every night, before I sleep, thank God on bended knee. For what the Temperance cause has done for my dear John and me. (Just when she finishes, John and his children come blithely in, a couple of them holding on to his 30 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. arms. John, of course, is now well dressed. The children should now stand in front, with papa in the centre behind, supported by his ivife on tJie right and her sister on the left. The following piece should then be sung. If possible, a little girl should sing the first verse, a little boy the second, and a little girl the third ; all the family, including auntie, joining in the chorus. Or the children may sing the verses together, the others joining in tlie chorus. The piece is found in "Temperance Chimes," j^O'ge ^^ ; but if the tune is not conve- niently available, the chorus may be omitteA, the first and second verses sung by the children, and the third Iieartily sung by all in chorus.) GLORIOUS NEWS. 0, have you heard the glorious news That's round the town to-day ] Father has sign'd the pledge, and we Are happy, light, and gay. No more we dread his coming step. But spring to gr«et him home ; Mother has wip'd her tears away. And joy to us has come. CHORUS. 0, glorious news, glorious news, glorious news to-day, Father has sign'd the pledge, and we are happy light and gay. Happy, happy, happy, light and gay, Happy, happy, happy, light and gay. Father has sign'd the pledge, and we are happy, light and gay. don't go in to-night, JOHN. 31 The Many's the sorrowing time we've had, But such we'll have no more ; For father has driv'n the demon out. And lock'd and barr'd the door, No more we'll want for food and clothes, No more we'll mourn and sigh ; Our home shall be a home of peace, With cv'ry comfort nigh, Cho. Now, thanks we raise to God on high, For this gi-oat blessing giv'n. And earth to us henceforth shall be The entrance door to heav'n. Sing loud and full, sing clear and free, Let hill to valley call, And bear upon the wings of wind, The glorious news to all. Cho. (curtain falls.) BEFORE AND AFTER A PUBLIC DINNER. CHAEACTERS: Mb. Skinner, a middle-aged gentleman fond of eoinst to public dinners. Mrs. Skinner, the lady who has charge of him. Cabman. ! I ( SCENE I. Mr. Skinner is about to attend a charitable dinner. He stands mth his hat in his hand ready to say " Good evening " to Mrs. Skinner. Mr. Skinner— The annual dinner of the Widow's Benevolent Society takes place this evening, Mrs. Skinner, and it is now time to start. Mrs. Skinner— Now mind, my dear, don't get worse for the wine. Mr. S. — No, my love, (submissively). Mrs. S. (firmly)— Fray take care of your purse. Mr. S. — Yes, to be sure my dear. Mrs. S.— And don't stop after the dinner. Mr. S. — Really, Mrs. Skinner, these remarks are entirely uncalled-for. I should imagine, Mrs. S., that by this time you were fully aware of my strength of mind and firmness of resolution. Charity— bless- ed charity, Mrs. S. prompts me to go; but rest assured, I shall not give more than what is necessary BEFORE AND AFTER DINNER. 88 (ER. ng to ^ner. > say lows Mrs. get e. are S., igth less- rest sary to maintain the integrity of my name. I never allow my heart to get the better of my head, Mra. Skinner. If I go to a public dinner, it's as much a matter of business as pleasure ; I never over-do it. Prudence, Mrs. S., prudence is my watchword and motto. I'm not to be betrayed into over-indulgence, nor late hours ; oh, dear no ! other men may have these failings, but V have not. My position in society and well-known respectability, is a sufficient guarantee against anything of that kind. I'm proud —Caroline— proud, I may say, of my inflexible de- termination ; when I have once made up my mind, nothing can alter or influence me ; I wouldn't deviate from my fixed purpose, not even for my own brother, Mrs. S.; you undervalue my strength of mind, and msult me, by supposing me~me, Ebenezer Skinner, capable of such vacillation and impropriety. Mrs. S.— Oh, no ! Think of the last time you went to a dinner. Mr. S— Think of the last time. Now, Caroline, you know the last time, as I told you, I was taken suddenly ill, and was sent to the hospital in a cab, where they detained me two or three hours ; you know I was perfectly sober when I arrived at home. Mrs. S.— To be sure^you were, Mr. Skinner ; alter you had used the stomach-pump. Mr. S.— What do you say? That was owing to the stomach-pump. Mrs. Skinner, may you never be suddenly indisposed at a party. Mrs. S.— And then, the time before the last, you t 84 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. If i k were so drunk that you did not come home till the morning. Mr. S. — I didn't come home till morning 1 That's too bad, Caroline; you know perfectly well, the policeman who brought me home told you, as I did myself, that the crowd at the fire was so great I couldn't get through, and was forced, against my will, into a tavern opposite, wher« the fumes of the liquors the firemen drank overpowered my finely- strung nerves. (She laughs derisively). But I dare say nothing of that kind will occur to-night, and you may rely upon it, that I shall be guilty of no ap- proach to inebriation— it's what I detest and abhor. Mrs. S. — Wait till you are drinking your toasts, and you will not abhor it so much. Mr. S. — Of course I must — like others — respond to the usual loyal toasts ; but beyond that, Mi-s. S., don't think, for a moment, I shall go. In fact, the truth is, I would rather not go at all : but you see I am one of the stewards, and duty — religious duty Caroline, towards the truly excellent objects of the society, calls upon me, in the sacred names of benevolence and humanity, to contribute my humble aid to the good cause, and to partake of the annual dinner ; and I cannot, without self-reproach, neglect it ; but, upon the word of a man whose valued pos- session is his strength of mind, and power to resist temptation, / shall he at home by twelve o'clock. You smile — why so ? Mrs. S.— -Oh ! I know your determination of char- acter. Ha ! ha ! BEFORE AND AFTER DINNER. 85 Mr. S.— You know my determination of character, Mrs. S., why doubt mel Mind, I don't say it may not l.e five minutes affer twelve, but not later. By- the-bye, I might as well take a key, and then neither you nor the servant need wait up. Mrs. S.— No, indeed ! I'm not going to risk the house being set on fire, with your filthy cigars left burning in the passage again. Mr. S.— Now, Caroline, dearest ! that's not right ; you know I don't smoke. Mrs. S. — How came it there, then? Mr. S.— How should I know 1 I suppose some one threw it in when I opened the door. However, time presses, it's now nearly five, and I've got to walk to the rank to get a cab ; I must be off. (He starts to go') Mrs. S. (c«Wm<7)— Remember, I'll sit up for you. Mr. S. {calling hack) — Certainly my dear. Ta-ta ! SCENE II. Mr. Skinner is starting for home "after the dinner." He cannot find his own hat or umbrella, and has to take an old hat much too large for him, and a rickety gingham umbrella. Of course he is so-so- sober. Mr. Skinner (Singing.)— '^ We're na that fou, we're na that fou, but just a wee drop in our ee." Why, dear me ! dear me ! whatever is the time ? Everybody is gone home ; I wish / was at home. Here— cab, cab, cab ! Why, even all the cabs are 86 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. gone home. All the people's gone to bed, except my wife, she ain't, I know; she'll wait up for me, to let me in, instead of the girl— what a fool she is ! I wish she'd let Mary Ann sit up to open the door ; it would do just as well, and she wouldn't break her rest. Nicegirl, that Mary Ann— very nice girl. Now, when I do get home, I shall catch it^I know I shall ; I've given all the money away, doubled my subscription, and became a life subscriber. Well, well— Charity covers a'— what is it?— (Atccwp)— what is it? a multitude of something. Beautiful song that, the man sung— veiy touching: something about ' drying up the Orphan's Beer ./'—I forget the rest— cost me five guineas tho'— never mind. {Singiruj thicUy.) "Britons ne-e-e-e-ever shall be slaves." I don't know which is my house? I can't see it. Why {hiccup), this isn't my street; my •street's a terrace, that goes up steps, with a brass knocker, and a letter-box. What does it say ? {Look- ing up at a street name.) Bloor street ! Why, this ain't the way to John street— that's where I live. (As if addressing a company.) « Skinner, gentle- men, will bo most happy and delighted to see you all iheve, gentlemen, come when you will; Mi-s. Skinner will be proud to receive you ; she's'a good woman, gentlemen, though I say it ; a better creature than Mrs. S, never breathed, gentlemen; she will make you all comfortable for a week, if you like, gentlemen." {Suddenly waking up.) " Hallo ! hallo ! What am I talking about? Catch her at it. Why, it was only yesterday she snubbed my City friend, Bif. BEFORE AND AFTER DINNER. 37 fins. She don't like conviv-viv-viv-i-alty, does my wife. I wonder what she'll say to me, being so late 1 She'll think I've been drinking ; she's wrong, though, very wi-ong ! How could I miss my way I can't make out ! Why, here's a bridge ; I don't go over any bridge to John street, do 1 1 Certainly not. How the fog gets in one's eyes ! I know these fogs will do a deal o' mischief; if it hadn't been for the fog I should a' been home hours ago — but she won't believe it— not a bit of it. She be bothered ; she should a' let me have the key; next time I will have it {Hiccup.) Now I feel as happy as possib-ib-ble. I wonder how people can grumble, and not be charit- a'b-a'b-able?— they ain't like me. Now, there's Bun- kins, I'll lend him five pounds to-morrow ! There's old John, my clerk, too; he's a good old faithful ser- vant ; I'll raise his salary, directly. Then there's my poor brother Tom, in the workhouse. Tom, my boy, you shall come out and be my partner. What a good thing it is to have a kind heart ! How I feel for the poor creatures that's badly off ! I'll make Mrs Skinner give away soup in the morning to all the wretched, starving, poor things that ain't got a bed to eat, and not a bit o' bread to lie down upon ! (Hears a cab and calls out) : Here, my man i Cab ! Cab ! Here, drive me home ! Cabman (from dressing-room) — Where's home ? Mr. S,— Why, its home— John street, you know — drive on, and charge what you like. Mrs. Skin- ner must pay it. Won't she like that ? Well, never mind, I shall sleep like a top while she talks. I'm 88 Vti PI '5 1' CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. all right now T've got a cab— in I go ! (Singing.) ' Old Simon the Cellarer keeps a— a'— oh, I don't know ; that's what the man sung. Cabman— Come, hurry up if you want me to drive you home. Mr. S.— All right, old boy; I'm coming (hie). Help me in, cabby. (He has now reached the door of the dressing-room and the cabman assist.'^ him in. It loill add to the amnsement if he lets him fall once or twice be/ore get- ting him in.) (curtain falls.) 'Hi ling.) don't drive {hie). -room to the ^e get- r THE VAGRANTS. INTKODUCTION. This piece is formed from the very fine poem of Trow- bridge. It ought to be one of the most impressive of all the Temperance Kecitations published. It never ought to be read without producing serious emotional feelings. It is a painful thing to see (as is frequently the case), an audience convulsed with laughter during its delivery. This result is partly, perhaps principally, owing to the fact certain parts of the poem are, when separated from the whole, of a mirth- provoking character. The editor has deemed it advisable to omit these parts entirely, and in order to render the delivery of the piece more simple, and, he trusts, more effecUve, he has changed it to to the form of a Dialogue. ♦ CHARACTERS: A Landlord, seated in his Bar. A Vagrant, who enters with his fiddle and dog. Vagrant — We are two travellers, Roger and I, Roger's my dog, and if you please You'll let us come in by your stove to dry, For the rain and sleet to my garments freeze. The rogue is growing 41 little old ; Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank — and starved together. "We've learned what comfort is, I tell you ! A bed on the floor, a bit of rosin, ""•"-^m^iMlJUMiU 40 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. i A fire to thaw our thumbs, (poor fellow? The paw he holds up there's been frozen), Plenty of cat-gut for my fiddle, (This out-door business is bad for strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings ! Landlord— Will you have a drink ? Vagrant-No, thank you. Sir, I never drink ; Boger and I are exceedingly moral, Ain't we, Roger ? Landlord— 'Twill warm you, I think VAGKANT-Well, something hot, then; we won't quarr^L [Tlie landlord prmrs a glass /or him.] The truch is, sir, no^/ f reflect, I're been no sadly given to grog, I wonder l\e not Lst the respect ' • (Ber<^sto you, sir!) even of my dog. [Drinks.] iiut he sticks by, through thick and thin ; And this old coat, with its empty pockets, And rags that smell of tobacco and gin. He'll follow whUehe has eyes in his sockets, ihero isn't another creature living Would do it and prove, through every disaster, «o fond, so faithful, and so forgiving. To such a miserable thankless master ! We'll have some music, sir, if you are wilKng. [He play, a tune; any sweet, old twie that will touch a chord in men's hearts will do.] I^ndlord -Are you not tired of this kind of iife t Why don't you reform 1 le, THE VAGRANTS. 41 on't 1 I a of VAGRANT-Why not reform ? That's easily said ; But I've gone through such wretched treatment • Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread, And scarce remembering what nfeat meant, That my old stomach's past reform ; And there are times when, mad 'with thinking, Id sell out Heaven for something warm To prop a horrible inward sinking. Is there a way to forget to think ? At your age, sir, home, fortune, friends, A dear girl's love,— but I took to drink ;~ The same old story; you know how it ends. If you could have seen these classic features.— You needn't laugh, sir ; they were not then Such a burning libel on God's creatures : I was one of your handsome men ! If you had seen her, so fair and young, Whose head was happy on this breast ! If you could have heard the songs I sung When the wine went round, you wouldn't have- guessed That ever I, sir, should be straying From door to door, with fiddle and dog, Ragged and penniless, and playing To you to-night for a glass of grog ! Landlord— What became of her you loved ? Vagrant— She's married since,— a parson's wife : 'Twas better for her that we should part.— Better the soberest, prosiest life Than a blasted home and a broken heart. Landlord— Have you ever met her since ? 42 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. Vagrant— I have seen her once ; I was weak and spent On the dusty road, a carriage stopped: But little she dreamt as on she went, Who kissed the coin that her fingers dropped! You've set me talking, sir; I'm sorry; It makes me wild to think of the change ! What do you care for a beggar's story? Is it amusing ? you find it strange? I had a mother so proud of me ! 'Twas well she died before Do you know If the happy spirits in heaven can see The ruin and wretchedness here below? Another glass, and strong to deaden This pain; then Roger and I will start. I wonder, has he such a lumpish, leaden, Aching thing, in place of a heart ? [Drinks ] LANDLORD-Well, my poor fellow, you do not lead a very gay lite, I think. Vagrant— Not a veiy gay life to lead, you think; But soon we'll go where lodgings are free, And the lodgers need neither victuals nor drink— The sooner the better for Roger and me. (curtain falls.) < : js^"* :**;■ A*!jfe.'3^'-^5 THE TRADES' COMBINATION. CHAKACTEKS : Two Ladies. Bepkesentaxives of various trades. COMPANY. Times won't be good, 'tis plain to see, Till we are rid of Alcohol, And we will have a glorious time. To roll the Temperance ball ; Then let us rouse with might and main. Together one and all, And work, and work, and work, and work. Against old Alcohol. FAEMEE, [with a flail.) The farmers want good times again. To sell their wheat and pork : And to get rid of Alcohol, They're going right ofi' to work. They'll plough, and reap, and sow, and mow, And store their crops next fall, And thrash, and thrash, and thrash, and thrash And thrash old Alcohol. ' LABOEEE, {sawing wood.) The la:uoring men they want more work. And higher wages too ; 44 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. •il They'll help to roll the temperance ball, With better times in view ; They'll saw, and chop, and grub, and dig, And shovel, and shovel away. Without a drop of Alcohol, By night nor yet by day. TAILOR, (sewing.) The tailors, too, are on the spot, To roll the temperance ball ; They know they never get a job From old King Alcohol. They'll cut, and baste, and cabbage, and sponge. And press, and sew, and hem, And stitch, and stitch, and stitch, and stitch, For all the temperance men. SHOEMAKER, (pegging.) Shoemakers, too, with right good will. Will join the working throng, And what they do for temperance. They'll do both neat and strong ; They'll cut, and crimp, and last, and stitch, And peg, and black, and ball. And peg, and peg, and peg, and peg. And peg old Alcohol. HATTER, (fitting a hat on a block.) The hatters do not want to see Their kettles standing dry. Just give them room to sign the pledge And then the fur will fly : They'll nap, and block, and collar, and bind, ?» sponge, titch, i tch, )ind, THE trades' combination. ^6 Together one and all, And finish, and finish, and finish, and finish, And finish old Alcohol. BLACKSMITH, {with Mmmer and anvil.) The blacksmiths, too, roll up their sleeves, And make their sledges swing. And in the cause of temperance They'll make their anvils ring ; They'll blow, and strike, and forge, and weld, And make the cinders fly. And hammer, and hammer, and hammer, and hammer. For Alcohol must die. COOPER, (making a barrel,) The coopers, too, are on the way, With barrels ready made. To pack away old Alcohol, And send him to the shade ; They'll raise, and cause, and guage, and hoop. With hoops both great and small, And hoop, and hoop, and hoop, and hoop, And hoop up Alcohol. TWO LADIES. The ladies, too, are on the way, To work in this great cause. And what they do for temperance. Will meet with your applause ; They'll laugh, and sigh, and coax, and cry. And crush the monster down, 5 I,, 46 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. And talk, and talk, and talk, and talk, And talk him out of town. COMPANY. And thus we'll shout, and so we'll work. Until our journey's o'er. A glorious victory we'll obtain, When Alcohol's no more. Then let us rouse with might and main. Together one and all, And shout, huzza for temperance ! And down with Alcohol ! (Jt will add to tJie effect of this piece if the first and last verses are sung. ) (curtain falls.) SHALL WE KEEP LIQUOR AT HOME ? CHAEACTERS: Harry Seaburn. Emma, his wife. His two boys. Alec Lombero, an old college chum, ruined by Rum. A Warden. SCENE I. Harry and Emma in their own home, Harry — What makes you so sober 1 Emma — Sober ! Harry— Yes. You have been sober and mute ever since the grocer came. Emma — Do you want me to tell you why 1 Harry — Of course I do. Emma— Well, Harry, I am sorry you have had that liquor brought into the house. Harry— Pooh! what's the use in talking so, Emma ? You wouldn't have me to do without it, would you 1 Emma — Yes. Harry — Why, what do you mean? Emma— I mean that I would cut clear of the stuff, now and forever. 48 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. i i Harry — But — Emma — you are wild. What should we do at our parties without wine 1 Emma — Do as others who have it not. Harry — But — rae^'cy ! — what would people say 1 Are you afraid I — but no — I won't ask so foolish a question. Emma — Ask it, Harry. Let us speak plainly, now that we have fairly commenced. Harry — Well, I was about to ask if you wore afraid that I should ever — drink too much ? Emma — That's not a fair question, Harry. I was not thinking of that at all. But I will answer it by and by. You have no fixed appetite for it now 1 Harry — Of course not. Emma — Then it would not cost you any effort of will to abstain from its use 1 Harry — Not a particle. Emma — And you only have it in the house, and serve it to your friends and drink it yourself, because it is fashionable ! — or, you do it because others do it 1 Harry— I do it, because it would appear very odd, and very niggardly, and very fanatical, not to do it. Emma — Do you believe you, or your friends, are in any way benefitted by the drinking of intoxicating beverages at your board 1 That is — do you derive any real good from it 1 Harry — No, I can't say that we do. Emma — Do you think the time has ever been, since we wfre married, when we actually ne(ded wine in the house, either for our health or comfort 1 i'*-* ' What le say ? bolish a ily, now >u wore I was iswer it it now 1 effort of ise, and because rs do if? sar very i, not to nds, are ixicating u derive er been, needed comfoi't 1 SHALL WE KEEP LIQUOR AT HOME ? 49 Harry— WhjT, I think it has ministered to our comfort, Emma. Emma — How ? Harry — Oh, in many ways. Emma — Name one of them. Harry— Why, in tlie enjoyment of our guests. Emma— Ah, but I am speaking of ourselves, Harry --of you, and me, and our own little family. Has it ever ministered to our comfort ? Harry— No, I can't say that it has. Emma— And if it was banished from our house tOHlay anci forever, as a beverage, should we suffer in consequence ? Harry— Certainly. What would our friends — Emma— Ah, but stop. I am only speaking of our own affaire, as shut out from the world, by our own fireside. I want all extraneous considem tion loft out of the question. Should we, as a tamily, suffer in our moral, physical, social, or domestic affairs, in the total abstinence from this beverage i Harry— No, I don't know thn t we should. Emma— Then to you, as a husband, a father, and a man, it is of no earthly uf- ■ ? Harry — No. Emma— And it would cost you no effort, so far as you alone are concerned, to break clear from it. Harry — Not a particle. Emma (vert/ earnestly J—Then, Harry, before it is too late, give it up. We have two boys. They are growing to be men. They are noble, generous, and tender-hearted. They love their home and honour 50 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. i their parents. They are here to form those charac- ters—to receive those impressions which shall be the basis upon which their future weal or woe must rest. Look at them—O, think of them .'—Think of them doing battle in the great struggle of the life before them. Shall they carry out from their home one evil influence 1 Shall they, in the time to come, fall hy the wayside, cut down by the Demon of the Cup, and in their dying hour, curse the example whence they derived the appetite ? O, for our children— for those two boys— for the men we hope to see them— for the sweet memories we would have them cherish of their home— for the good old age they may reap— let us cast this thing out now, and forever. Harry— Well, Emma, I have not time to wait any longer this morning. I will think about what you have said, and we will endeavor to decide the matter when I return from business in the evening. Emma — May God direct you in deciding. SCENE II. A room in a hospital. A young man reclining on one of the couches. He is evidently in a very low condition. He should assume the appearance of a miserable drunkard as nearly as possible. The couch should be in the rear-centre of the platform. Harry Seaburn and the Hospital Warden are discovered in conversation at the front of the plat- form. Warden— I am glad you have come, sir, he seems very anxious to see you. SHALL WE KEEP LIQUOR AT HOME ? 51 Harry— Did he tell you his name ? Warden-No. He said he wanted to see whether you would recognize him. Poor fellow, he is very low, but I think he has known better days. Harry— How did he come to send for me ? WARDEN-He heard your name mentioned, sir and he started up asking if it was Harry Seabum' ^ho was meant. On receiving a reply in the affir- matiye, he msisted on your coming to see him. This IS Jus ward, sir. (The Warden retires, and Harry goes over to the couch. The invalid extends his hand. Harry takes It, and gazes affectionately at him for some moments without speaking.) Alec (.a^^3,)-Have you forgotten your old play- mate m boyhood, Hany ; your friend in other yea J- your chum in college ? ' Harry {starti^ig hack in astonishment)~Wlm ' Ihis IS not Alec Lomberg ? Alec (smiling faintly)~All that is left of him Jlal. * Harry— Alexander Lomberg ! Alec— You wouldn't have known me, Hal ? Harry— Indeed— no ! Alec— I know I am altered. her^r'"''"^''*' ^^''' ^""^ '' ^^''^ Why are you for^'^T^'Tf "'' "^^ Hal-RuM ! I'm about done Wnot^faraway,andIwouldlookupono^^ sa CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. fit Harry— But I heard that you were practising in your profession, Alec, and doing well. Alec— So I did do well when I practised, Hal. I have made some pleas, but I have given up aU that. , * HARRY~And your father— where is he 1 Alec {bitterly)— T>ou'i mention him, Hal. We've broken. I don't know him ; he taught me to drink ! Ay, he taught me! and then turned the cold shoulder upon me when I drank too much ! But I am going soon, Hal ; going, going. Harry— Can I do anything for you, Alec ? Alec {struggling to raise himself in bed)— Yea. Pray for me, Hal. Pray for my soul ! Fray that I may go where my mother is ! She won't disown her boy. She could not have done it had she lived. O ! she was a goo.l mother, Hal. Thank God she didn't Hve to see this ! Pray for me— pray— pray ! Let me go to HER ! B.ARHY— {With emotion.) I will, Alec, I will; but, my dear boy, you're getting too much excited. I will call again. Try to compose yourself. Alec. Good evening. Alec— Good night, Hal., dear. Come soon. SCENE in. Harry Seaburn's house. Present Harry, Emma, and their two Boys. Emma— Harry, I think the Lord in his great mercy showed you that dreadful sight to convince you and ii^-i^j*^i#«p«ai«kiBjep:?t!-^nfc =- tising in 3d, Hal. n up all We've > drink ! he cold But I 1 )— Yes. 7 that I >wn her d. O! 3 didn't ! Let 11 ; but, ;ed. I Alec. SHALL WE KEEP LIQUOR AT HOME ? fig all of us that it is wroiio-__fpj>,.f„ii„ that serpent into our home "^ "'•""'" *" ''""S HABBV-Yes, E^^a, and what a lesson it was for wealthy parents; the idol of a fond mother -the favorite at school at i.l^„ „ i • , "'■"'"^ < the . . „ ''-'"""' •" play, and in the parlor ■ a hVhf of intellect and physical beauty and a n W -H^uortrttZrhLSr^jrerdi ■•eason to curse their fatV n , ^ ,"■ '"'™ """ to.ohthewine.cupnf":':::,^^:^^"'^™^^-'" mr boys, will you .join me in the pledgeT "°" Bovs-Gladly, father. " for!::™" ^'o'h f d ':";•"" "^ ^""^ ■>'•- "— "» upon my boys ' t 'itt" Tl" ''"'''"^'" "^--^ til of'te41tion So sCalf hVV^'" ""'' '" ""' life for H,. i, fl , "^ '''"'^ "s through Wejor the influence they carry with them from thei, (^CURTAIN FALLS. ^ Emma, mercy )U and THE BRIDAL WINE-CUP. CHARACTEKS ; The Judge. Marion, his daughter in britial costume. Hervey Wood, her betrothed. Edith Wood and other members of a bridal party. Hervey Wood — Pledge with wine; — pledge with wine. Bridal Party — Yes, pledge with wine. Marion (beseechingly) — Oh, no ! Judge — Come, Marion, lay aside your scruples, the company expect it. In your oum home do as you please ; but in mine for this once please me. Edith (offering a glass of wine to Marion) — Please Marion, lead us in our cheer ; once will do you no harm, and you should not stand at trifles on your wedding day. Marion (accepting the goblet and raising it slowly to her lips, suddenly exclaims) — Oh, how terrible ! Bridal Party (crowding around her without tast- ing their wine) — What is it 1 Marion — Wait, wait and I will tell you. I see (holding the goblet at arm's length and pointing her finger steadily at it) a sight that beggars all descrip- tion ; and yet listen : I will paint it for you if I can. It is a lovely spot; tall mountains, crowned with THE BRIDAL WINE-CUP. 55 rendure, rise in awful sublimity around ; a river runs through, and bright flowers grow to the water's edge. There is a thick, warm mist that the sun seeks vainly to pierce. Trees, lofty and beautiful, wave to the airy motion of the birds ; but ihere, a group of Indians gather; they flit to and fro with something like sorrow upon their dark brows. And in their midst lies a manly form — but his cheek, how deathly; his eye wild with the fitful fire of fever. One friend stands beside him — nay, I should say kneels ; for, see, he is pillowing ^hat poor head upon his breast. • Genius in mins — oh, the high, holy looking brow ! Why should death mark it and he so young ? Look how he throws back the damp curis ! Sec him clasp his hands ! Hear his thrilling shrieks for life ! Mark how he clutches at the form of his companion, im- ploring to be saved ! Oh ! hear him call piteously his father's name ; see him twine his fingers together as he shrieks for his sister ; his only sister ; the twin of his soul, weeping for him in his distant native land. See ! ser> ! his arms are lifted to heaven— he prays wildly for mercy— the friend beside him is weeping ; awestricken, the dark men move silently away, and leave the" living and the dying together, (she speaks low, faintly but v&nj distinctly, while Hervey occasionally sobs and the Judge hangs his head in apparent sorrow.) It is evening now ; the great white moon is coming up, and her beams lie gently on his forehead. He moves not ; his>yes are sot in their sockets; dim are their piereing gl ances -m SB CANADIAN PKOHIBITION KECITES. T h,8 friend whispers the name of father and sister -death IS thei^. Death- -and no soft hand, no gentle voice to bless and soothe him. His head sinks back • one convulsive shudder-he is dead. Dead, and there they scoop him a grave, and there without a earl Vh '^ ^ ""' '""" "' *■-« "^P' -king ear h, the only son of a proud father, the idolized brother of a fond sister. And he sleeps to-day in that distant land, with no stone to mark the spot. There he he.-my fuller's son-my own twin brotL ' a victim to thh deadly poison. Father, (tunring mddmly toward, him) shall I drink it now? JCDOE (tn atone expressive of great anm,y)~So no, my child— iVb. "^ ' „^TT- ^^'^''"^ *"■ ^*'' *"«''■"«' '■' <^ i''^ floor and hohngat the Moments first and tl^n at the company)-Ut no friend hereafter, who loves me tempt me to peril my soul for wine. Not flrmerare' the everlastmg hills than my resolve, God helping mo, never to touch or taste tba poison-cup. Ind (tummg to ffervey Wood) he to whom I have given my hand ; who watched over my brother'n dying fomm that last- solemn hour, and buried the dm! wanderer there by the river, in that land of gold will, I trust, sustain me in that resolve ' ^ Hervev WooD-Yes, Marion, hy God's strength *.lTT^^.^ "^ '■^"S'"'"'-' ^'" •'»«t the tempter forever from my home ; and fondle no longer the serpent which destroyed my own beloved boy (curtain falls.) ii INDIGESTION. CHARACTERS : Db. Gkegort. A Mbbchant. ScEBE.l.(Dr. (?r.y„ry, an»:"* can accuse ""« of that. I am of the dissenting persuasion,. 68 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. doctor, and an elder ; so you may suppose I am no drunkard. Doctor— I'll suppose no such thing, till you tell me your mode of life. I am so much puzzled with your symptoms, sir, that I should wish to hear, in detail, what you do eat and drink. When do you breakfast, and what do you take at it 1 Merchant— I breakfast at nine o'clock ; take a cup of coffee, and one or two cups of tea, a couple of eggs, and a bit of ham or smoked salmon, or may be both, if they are good, and two or« three rolls and butter. Doctor — Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam at breakfast 1 Merchant— Oh, yes, sir ! but I do not count that as anything. Doctor — Come, this is a veiy moderate breakfast. What kind of dinner do you make ? Merchant— Oh, sir, I eat a very plain dinner in- deed. Some soup, and some fish, and a little plain roast or boiled ; for I do not care for made dishes. I think some way they never satisfy the appetite. Doctor— Do you take a little pudding then, and afterward some cheese ? Merchant— Oh, yes ! though I do not care much about them. Doctor — You take a glass of ale or porter with your cheese ? Merchant— Yes, one or the other; but seldom both. INDIGESTION. 59 DocTOR-You west country people generally take a glass of whiskey after dinner. MERCHANT-Yes, we do; i'ts good for digestion. Doctor-Do you take any wine during dinner? MERCHANT-Yes, a glass or two of sherry ; but I am indifferent as to wine during dinner. I drink a good deal of beer. DocTOR-What quantitjr of port do you drink ? MERCHANT-Oh, very little; not above a half dozen glasses or so. Doctor— In the west country it is impossible, I Dear, to dme without punch ? MERCHANT-Yes, sir ; indeed, it is punch we di-ink chiefly ; but for myself, unless I happen to have a friend with me, I never take more than a couple of tumblers or so, and that's moderate. Doctor— Oh, exceedingly moderate, indeed! You then after this slight repast, take some tea and bread and butter ? MERCHANT-Yes, before I go to the counting- house to read the evening lettei-s. DocTOR-And, on your return, you take supper, I suppose ? ^^ ' Merchant-No, sir, I cannot be said to take sup- per ; just something before going to bed ; a broiled haddock, or a bit of toasted cheese, or a half-hundred of oyster^, or the like of that, and may be two-thirds of a bottle of ale ; but I take no regular supper. ^^^r^'^^^ ^"'^ *^^' ^ ^'**^' ^"'' P^^^^ ^^*^r MERCHAifT~No, sir; punch does not agree with ? ill 60 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. I if If M I I ^^^ me at bed-time. I take a tumbler of warm whiskey toddy at night ; it is lighter to sleep on. Doctor— So it m ast be, no doubt. This, you say, is your every-day life ; but, upon great occasions, you perhaps exceed a little ] Merchant— No, sir ; except when a friend or two dine with me, or I dine out, which as I am a sober family man, does not often happen. Doctor— Not above twice a week 1 Merchant— No ; not oftener. Doctor— Of course you sleep well and have a good appetite ? Merchant— Yes, Sir, I have; indeed, any ill health that I have is about meal-time. Doctor {assuming a severe look, knitting his brow and lowering his eyebroivs.)—-Now, sir, you are a very pretty fellow, indeed. You come here, and tell me you are a moderate man but, upon examination, I find by your own showing, that you are a most voracious glutton. You said you were a sober man ; yet by your own showing, you are a beer-swiller, a dram- drinker, a wine-bibber, and a guzzler of punch. You tell me you eat indigestible suppers, and swill toddy to force sleep. I see that you chew tobacco. Now, sir, what human stomach can stand this 1 Go home,' sir and leave your present coui-se of riotous living' anJ there are Iiopos that your stomach may recover its tone, and you be in good health, like your neigh- bors. MerciiaxNT— I am sure, doctor, I am very much THE GROO-SELLER VANQUISHED. 61 obliged to you. {TaUn^ out a pocket-book.) I shaU endeavor to Doctor— Sir, you are not obliged to me. Put up your money, sir. Do you think I will take a fee for telling you what you know as well as myself? Though you are no physician, sir, you are not altogether a fool. Go home, sir, and reform, or take my word for It, your life is not worth half a year's purchase. (curtain falls.) THE GROG-SELLER VANQUISHED. CHAKACTERS : Bob, a Landlord's Son. Jack, a Temperance Boy. [Enter Bob.] Bob (mu8ingly)~We\\\ well! well! What is all the world coming to, every fellow is saymg he is going to be a Son or a Good Templar or some other of these new fangled societies • I 62 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. If '.t wonder what kind of a magnet they have in their meeting-rooms, for they seem to be drawing eveiy chap there. [Lnter John.] Bob— Hollo, Jack ! what wind brought you here? I haven't seen you this age. What's the best news? Jack— Well, Bob, I know not any news, just now, of much importance, exceptthat all our family has joined the Temperance Society, and uncle Samuel is to be initiated to-night, in the same Lodge in which father is. But I suppose that's not the best news to your mind. Bob— Pshaw! as to that I don't care a flg, for your father never spent much money in our place ; it was only at night times he ever used to come, and then he always got so abominably drunk, that father and I had to kick him out almost every night. But, anyhow, he won't have the pleasure of spend- ing a comfortable evening over a glass of grog, now ho has joined that water-gruel affair. However, let him go, and joy go with him. He'll soon find out, though, how to fetch himself back again. Jack— I hope not, Bob, he's had enough of these quarters already, I can assure you. Bob— You might think so. Jack, but if he doesn't soon fall back into his good old ways, my name isn't £ob Swig-a-little. But, Jack, tell me how your father came to join the Sons ? for I thought they would only take those whom they thought were or- derly and respectable citizens ; but I am sure they ^^-^^t^^^^ VTi' - ^ - - - " ' THE GROG- SELLER VANQUISHED. 0$ couldn't find in all a more drunken, beastly fellow than your dad was. Jack— I suppose, Bob, you saw some bills the other day, in the shop windows, with this heading, " Mmd your helm, and steer steady over the Ocean of Life." I don't know whether you read it or not • however, it was about a Temperance lectu- -hich was to be given in the Temperance Hall, by an .Id sailor who had been an old drunkard. VV 1], Boh, father happened to pass by and read it, so ' r'ietjr' mined he would go and hear him, never aieaming he would sign the pledge, or join a Temperance Society. The night came, and he accordingly bent his steps towards the Hall which he reached in time to procure a good seat. Bob— Well. Jack, what did the fellow f^ay? Jack— I cannot tell you exactly. Bob, what he said, but this I know,— his arguments were so for- cible that father could hold out no longer, so he signed the pledge, and determined while m the room, to get Mr. Faithful to propose him as a mem- ber of the Sons of Temperance. Bob— He did ! well, he must have had a pretty hard cheek, too, to do that ; for I thought Faithful wouldn't be seen speaking to such a filthy, drunken fellow as your father was. However, I spose it's the fashion, these days, for drunkards to go hand-in- hand with them teetotal fellers. Well, let them go ! Jack— Don't be so rash. Bob, father saw\o other means of becoming a respectable man again, without he did so, therefore be made bold to j>op the 64 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. r il:i momentuo'us question, as a lover would say, to Mr Faithful, as he was the only Son of Temperance he' knew anything about. And oh, Bob, I cannot thank Mr. Faithful too much for his kindness. Bob— Pshaw ! Jack, you talk like a fool. What sense is there in thanking Faithful, what good has he done you or your father? None that I can see, except that he has managed to get out of your dad two or three dollars for his initiation fee, and gulled him out of taking a comfortable glass once in a while JACK-Well, Bob, perhaps I talk like a fool in your estimation, but I think you talk far more so You can see the good which Mr. Faithful and total abstinence have donefather and me, as well as all our family, by the manner in which we dress ; you can't see any rags about me now, as you used to, I can assure you. And did you not say, just now, that you or your father kicked mine out of doors, almost every evening, because he got so intoxicated ? Bob— Yes, Jack, I did, and I'll maintain it to the last. Jack— Well then, do you call that comfortable • or do you call it honorable, after having enticed all the money out of his pooket, to take him by the shoulders and pitch him into the street ? If that is honorable I don't know what the meaning of the term is. But Bob, I think, we've had enough of this subject, there- fore let us break it off, or we may not be as good fnends in a short time, as when we met. BoB~Very well. Jack, I'm perfectly willing to accede to your request. And 1 must .say that you're THE GROG-SELLER VANQUISHED. 66 perhaps half right, after all. But there is one thing I want to ask you before you go, and that is have you seen Bill Sawyer lately ! What should you think, I saw him in Mr. Steady's store, the other day, serving some customers. Why, he used to be a dirty .street loafer a few months ago. I believe he must have jumped on the wheel ot fortune. Jack— I see him every W^ednesday evening at our Lodge (or Division, ^c.) Bob— What ! Has he joined your Temperance Society, too? Well, after that I shouldn't be surprised if I were to become a member some of these odd days. How did he get into your Lodge, as you call iti Jack— Easy enough. Bob ; he had only to promise that he would abstain from intoxicating drinks, and we received him as a member immediately. Bob— How does he act there. Jack ? Jack — First-rate. I cannot praise him too much for his untiring exertions; I believe he would submit to any inconvenience if he thought it would benefit our Lodge in the least. But I think you don't seem to be acquainted with Bill's history for some time. Bob ; therefore you'ti perhaps like to hear it, and also how he became a member. Bob— Yes, Jack, I should like to hear it very much. Jack— Well, then, here it is. You know, some time about a month ago, there was a large fire in Riot Street. Well, father happened to pass that way one night after the fire, and as he was going 66 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. along he saw, as he thought, a burnt log in the gut- ter; but you may judge of his surprise when he heard a heavy groan proceed from the supposed log. He went over, and there discovered poor Bill sleep- ing «6' sound as a top, as the saying is. At first father intended to give him in charge of a constable ; then the thought struck him how kind treatment would do. Just at that moment Mr. Rivers, a person whom he knew, came by in his buggy, and they at once decided that father should take charge of Bill. Bob— Well, Jack, what did your father do with him? Jack— I'll tell you presently, Bob ; but before I proceed any further with Bill's drunken histoiy, allow me t^ .ell you what Mr. Rivers and father determined u^^on. They determined to lose no time m splicing and bandaging his leg, Mr. Rivers agree- ing to come every morning, in the character of doctor, with a bottle in his hand containing Pure Cold Water to rub the leg with. Bob (smartly)— -Row did the plan succeed? I guess poor Bill thought he was going to kick the bucket, or had broken his leg in reality. Didn't he, Jack ? Jack— Yes, Bob ; I believe he did, for when he awoke up from his drunken sleep and found his leg rather more stiff than it usually was, he almost fainted ; we, however, gave him some good draughts of water, which succeeded in bringing him about again to his proper senses. THE GROa-SELLER VANQUISHED. 67 did they keep him like that, Bob — How long Jack? Jack— I think it was about a fortnight, during which time he had plenty of opportunity for re- flection, and I got him to promise that as soon as he got well he would join our temperance society. Bob— Did he ever find out the trick yet, Jack I Jack— O yes ; he knew all about it the night after he left his bed. We were seated around the fire when Mr. Rivers and father came in, and told Bill all about it, and I can assure you none of us laughed so heartily as he did at the joke, as he called it He however, told them they would never have the chance of playing such a trick upon him again, for he had determined to join the Lodge. Bob— Well, Jack, after that I don't know what to say, except it is that you may propose me as a mem- ber too. And I will do all I can to persuade father to give up the tavern-keeping business, and koepa grocery instead, for I see that Pure Cold Water is the only thing that is fit for much after all, as it c£>n be used with as perfect success in curing diseases, and even drunkenness, as it can in quenching a person's thirst. (curtain falls.) Ill i 11^ CHA.RLIE AND THE GIANT. CHARACTERS: Charlie: a highspirited little fellow, who mf>ans to do something grand yet. His Aunt. {Charlie is strutting around with a wooden sword in his hand. Aunt Ethel is sewing, and looks up en- quiring :) — What have you there, Charlie ? Charlie — O, Aimt Ethel, don't you Lnow 1 It is a sword Uncle Frank has sent me. You see we play soldiers at school, and it is such fun ! but I shall be a real soldier some day, an officer like Uncle Frank,, when I shall have a real sword. Aunt —And what will you do with it when you get one, Charlie 1 Charlie — T)o, Aunt Ethel ? Why I shall fight for the Queen, and for old England. I shall have something besides a sword, too, I suppose. Aunt — Well, it sounds very grand to hear of men fighting for their country and their liberties, but there are enemies at home that we ought all to do battle with, and not to rest until they are over- thrown. I have seen one terrible giant to-day. Charlie — A giant, Aunt Ethel ! (flourishing his sword. ) A giant did you say 1 How I should like ill mfvmk* CHARLIE AND THE GIANT. go to fight him ! It .ouid be David and Goliah over DatX~^* r'^'t '' " •^'^^''" '"""'Ph than Davids, my boy, ,f this giant were slain. But al- though one man could not do it, if all good peopk etta^lCI'Jr^ '^ "'"*«' ^^^*- -- - CHAEL.E--But I do n ,t understand. Aunt Ethel • whe.e.sthegiant^howdoyouWheifan ..^Z^~} ''"' *'" ^°" °^™"'<' of hi^ deeds, then you poor' W t^rr". ^"'^ """'"^ ' -"* *« - poor Luoy, th, laborer's daughter, who has been ill so long you know. It was bitterly cold and vour make her wretched bed a little more comfortable ^uWhatdoyouthinklsawwhenlwentint::;: Chahl,e-I don't know, aunt, wa, it a giant ? alsf " V°" "f ^'"'"^ "adgoncandthfbJkets, a ew.sh? '""*';' '"^ *'™™« '^"d loaning on a few shavmgs .n the corner, with no coverin/but » the dirty g:::..^r:rkr:f:;:it:^ haggard woman, her mother, vainly t^ing " them ,„to a bla.e. The terrible giant' hadVkelwT; tome of that miserable .nfe. As for Lucy she escaped to a better home soon after I left " ^ Uhahue— Did she die, Aunt J 70 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. I ' ' if Aunt — Yes, died, dear ; — had it not been for the giant, she and her mother might hava Kad a happy home, but everything was sacrificed to him. I will tell you some more of his doings, — this is only a soli- tary case. Every year he lays hold of fifty thousand working-people and reduces *them to beggary, strips them of furniture and clothing, starves their wives and children, aud lays thero in a pauper's grave. Thousands of little one=^. are pining with cold and hunger, but he is utterly pitii6.ss, Wherever he goes a long train of miseries, crira^ r; ami disasters follow in his track, and he causes pe^piu to hate and despise on 3 another, to fight and quarrel, and often to take each other's lives. Oh, none can know half the wretchedness he carries into homes which, otherwise, would '..0 bright and blessed. Charlif — Aunt Ethel, I know ! I wi'l fight this giant; I know his name, — it is — it is — Intemperance ! Aunt — Yes, Charlie, it is Intemperance. War has slain its thousands, but the victims of the wine- cup may be counted by tens of thousands. Fight this giant Charlie, fight him in God's name, and your life labor will not be in vain. (curtain falls.) *5' n for the a happy . I will ly a soli- thousand y, strips eir wives ■'s grave, cold and r he goes rs follow d despise Q to take half the therwise, fight this iperance ! B. War bhe wine- }. Fight ime, and FASHIONABLE DISSIPATION. rOR TWO VERY SMALL MISSES. (They meet on the street.) Laura. Good morning, Bella. Going to school? iSBLLA. Thank you. I don't feel well at all- My head aches. We all missed you so Last night at Dolly Sparkle's ball. We had a splendid time. Full dress, And not a soul an-ived till nine. The music and the sui.oer, too, Were tip-top^lots of ice and wine. Laura. My mamma thought the hours too late ; So papa wrote " regrets " and said I had my bread-and-milk at six— And that at seven I went to bed. Bella. Oh, horrible I I should expire With shame, if I were treated so ! I wore a new pink satin dress, And, Laura dear— I caught a beau ! Laura. A bow ? Who lost it ? Bella. Little dunce ! I mean & friend, who waits on one ; ■«qB« II 72 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. His manner was so marked, the girl8 Were dead with envy, Loll — such fun. His father's awful rich, ma says, — ^ We danced together eleven times. Oh, dear you would have laughed to see The get-up of poor Bertha Grimes. Laura. Bertha's a real sweet girl, I think, And the best student in the school, I'm sorry if sf^me accident, Exposed her to your ridicule. liil Bella. It's only that she has no taste, She makes herself a perfect fright ! She's worn that overskirt three times I'm certain, that she wore last mght. Laura. I'm sorry. Belle, I was not there — But mamma thinks these midnight hours Are bad for little girls like us, Who need to sleep, like birds and flowers. Bella. Don't call me, please, a little girl, That term's entirely out of date In good society. Why, Loll, On my next birthday I'll be eight. Laura. Well, I am nine ; but papa says « Bella. 1 What an old fogy he must be ! If he were mine, I'd let him know I knew about 9^ ffiuch ^s he, '4hh llliMHNIlHill rls ch fun. I. to see es. ool, ht! les aight. Lght hours id flowers. rht. FASHIONABLE DISSIPATION. 78 Lauha. Oh, Belle ! there's no one in the world As good and kind as papa dear ! Bella. Tut, Loll ! all old folks are a bore. And in the background should appear. There's Charlie, now—ini/ friend, you know, Drinks a whole bottle of champagne Ties his cravats in such a bow, And twirls the prettiest little cane. Laura. Ah ! there's the bell and I must go, Not once, this session, I've been late. Come, Belle. Not going? Miss your schooU Good-by, then, for I dare not wait. {Pas(>es on.) Bella. I ought to go with her to school. But not a lesson have I learned. That " fancy ball " comes off to-night, And with them all my head is turned. I'm tired of grammar and of slate, All school-books are but stupid stuff— When I have learned to dance and sing, I really think III know enough ! (curtain falls.) (V (f THE REFORMED FATHER. i ''if CHABACTEKS : FATViER — Child. FATHER, Come, darling, take a little toddy. It is a cold and rainy day ; A little's good for any body ; Come take a little, child, I pray. CHILD. O father, do not tempt lue so, I fear I'll love it by and by, And then my love will gr(>w and grow, Till I shall drink your bottle dry. FATHER. Fie, fie, your uncle Charles, I think, Has turned you silly qui^e, and wild ; Would your dear father bid you, drink, If this would hurt his darling child "J CHILD. Father, I love you from my heart, 5ut (.*, I fear to taste your brandy ; The sugared dram shall be your part^ Ajid I will have my sugar candy. THE REFORMED FATHER. 0, father I tell me what's the matter Al Mr. Toper's Jiouse, just by • O see the little children scatter, ' And hear their mother shriek and ciy I FATHER. Why, child, that lazy drunken hog Has just come home to beat his wife : ^he brute is now so full of grog. That all must run to save their Ufe. CHILD. And yet when he was young, they say, -He was as good as any body • But every old or rainy day, His fath. ^ave the darling toddy leather, if he LUiever tasted Would he ^vcbeoa a drunkard now? His credit gone, hi« ney wasted, His wife and children sunk in woe ? FATHER. But ah my child, he drank too deep, He should have stopped a, moderation : n we m proper, limits keep, There is no danger iu cre'ation. CHILD, And, father, I may drink too deep If I should arink your sweetened groff And, oh ! how would my father weep To hear ^hem call me "drunken iiog !" 75 fl -i' ,^{ 76 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. And, father, don't the Bible say, No drunkards shall with Jesus dwell] That God will send them far away, To sigh and weep in deepest hell ? I love you, father, that you know — do not spoil your darling son ; — But should I drink and sin, to woe, I'll say my father urged me on. FATHER. Enough, my son, I've no desire To urge you on to woe and pain; I'll throw my toddy in the tire, And never taste a drop again. My child has rescued me from shame. And filled his father's heart with joy ; Sure I had filled a drunkard's grave But for my precious darling boy. BOTH^— (joining hands. ) Then let us join together now, In asking God to give us power. To make and keep a solemn vow, To never touch it from this hour. (curtain falls.) 1] 01 h hi hi S^jprsw^wss-^ SSBT- A WORLD OF TROUBLE. CHARACTEBS : Thomas.—^ mechanic. avBAS.—Hia wife. Unclk John. SCENE I. A room — Susan sewmg. had half ao much to do as I have. It is drudge t:MVt::^:;/™"'»-'^^«"'^^«'"- ^•'-- (SJnter Thomas.) THOMAS--Well, Susan, how are all the children? SusAN-rA.y were all well ; you don't ask how I am^ You never think what a slavish life I lead Thomas— Slavish life ! SusAN-I have to draidge like a slave from mom- mg till night. No sooner is one thing done than an- other must be begun. I wonder I have stood it as I THOMAS-It is just the same with me Susan. I hllhT ''^^- ^"*^^-«^-^^<^^^atasa SUSAN-You never regard anything as a hardship. 78 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. ' -I Your work is different from mine. (Sighim.) This IS a world of trouble. THOMAS--mnsense ! This is a verj good world Susan. The people in it make it bad. Susan— That means me I suppose. THOMAs-Come, come Susan, don't grumble a« the time. SusAN-Who is grumbling? I can not speak a word lately without being accused of grumbling THOMAS-Because my dear you seldom ut^ter a sentence that does not contain a complaint. If you would be a little more cheerful, things would go much better v " Ti you. ^ SusAN-How can I be cheerful with so many troubles, as I have ? ^ THOMAS-Your troubles exist only in your own imagination. Susan— Just what you always say. Thomas_I must say one word more, Susan. (M^e sternly. I am hearUy tired, and disgusted with tnis continued faultfinding. My home L be- come a very gloomy and disagreeable place lately busAN— I suppose / make it so Thoma8_You do, Susan. I hay. not seen a plea- ^at smde on your face, nor heard a cheerful word from your lips for more than a year. It is enough towearamanout. I cannot stand it. ^ Susan (cry.V)-You have no sympathy for me in my trials and troubles. Thomas-You don't have r.ny trials and troubles. It IS all nonsense. You have a good house, weU JMSSS%l^im.ttBk:;i: :-: A WORLD OF TROUBLE, 79 furnished, and plenty to eat, drink and wear. You have to keep busy of course.- So do I-so do your father and mother, i our little crosses are not worthy of being called trials and troubles. I havn't come into the house for more than a year without being told that this was a world of trouble, and being compelled to listen to a long list of grievences whicS are too trivial to be mentioned. Susan {sobbing).—! am a monster I suppose. SCENE II. Susan seated at a tabh-^Tlrae about a year after last scene. SusAN-Oh, dear me ! This is a world of trouble and every year brings some new trial. My husband,' who used to be a steady and industrious man, ha^ taken to drinking, and scarcely ever comes home aober now. Oh, dear ! This is a real trouble. {Enter Tlno^i,^ intoxicated.) Thomas- Well, ,/ife, is supper ready? SusAN—Not yet, Thomas. . THOMAS-What's the reason it isn't ready? I'm ina hurry. There's going to be a turkey raffle at the tavern to-night, and I'm a going. Susan— Don't go, Thomas. Thomas— Yes, I will. Susan— You never stay at home now in the even- ing Thomas (staggering.)—! don t mean to. Do you 80 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. thiuk I'm going to 8tay here, and listen to you grumble and growl all the evening ? I wont d'zo it Susan— Oh, Thomas ! You ^ve~{pau8e,) Thomas— Well, what am I? Susan— Oh, dear me ! Thomas— What am I ? Susan {hesitating)— Yow are THOMAS-I'm drunk. Why don't you say it right out J I m drunk {staggering.) I used to be a respect- able man. I'm not now. Susan— Why do you drink ? Thomas— Because you grumble; that's why I drink ; why I get drunk. Supper ain't ready you say. I'll go without supper then. Susan — Stay at home to-night. Thomas— I won't d'zo it. {Staggers off. ) SusAN-A drunkard's wife ! Aias, that I should come to this. {Weeps.) I shall die, I know I shall. {Enter Uncle John.) Uncle J— Ah, Susan, in ttars ? SusAN-Oh, Uncle John ! My husband has just left me, and he is intoxica,ted. He never stays at home now. Uncle J.-You don't wonder at that do you How often have I told you that your complainings would bring about some great calamity? It has come !r . ^""^^ ""^^^ ^'"^ ^^"^^ ^ P^^«^ of misery, and he flies from it to the tavern. Susan— I, Uncle John ? Uncle J.— Yes, you Susan. {She reflects.) ^I^JMf^i\MM.f OIEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY LEG OF MUTTON. 81 SusAN-May Heaven forgive me ! Perhaps you are right But what can be don<. ? IJkcle J.-Perhaps nothing. It niay be too late. w.lh r^'.rj^''' """' ^ ^'"^^^^ ^"^y ^^^^ and I will talk with Thomas ; he is a good hearted man, and I thmk will reform, if you wiU do so Susan— I will ; oh, how gladly ! (curtain palls.) KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY LEG OF MUTTON. (Adapted Jrom Jarrold's Tales.) . T CHARACTERS: A LaNDLOBD. ^^Jak.8Jokk8-A labourer, but a regular customer at the Waut— His wife. '^^" ^"^"^«-^ well-dressed customer. MB. Bbfpy— A butcher. EAB-Boy. SCENE I. Bar in Landlord's hotel Present, Landlord, Mr. Crooks and Jones. ' JONES-Well, Landlord, I have called to pay my score I have been too heavy with you this week but I must not come it so strong next week, for I cannot pay for what I want to-night, till next Satur^ day. 1 have only twelve shillings cut of my thiHv to lake nome to Missis to mght. 6 82 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. Landlord_A11 right, James, you are a jolly good fellow, the hfe of the company, and can sing a food song ; and what is better, you arc capital pa^. You can have whatever you want Jo»E3--WeIl, I'll have a pint of halfand-half, (Be rece,ves /„, -pimr M be/ore he drinks it a bm, enu^n .,uk a tray o™ kU head, on ^oM. ,V ^ w ^ jnele, 0/n.uttou. Ue Lani>.oed .«fe ,:,, ,,ii,,„„^^ t " '"■""*' '"» °f "»"t«i. sir Mr Crooks -Upon my word it is a beautiful Ie» of mutton! Who is your butcher ? LANBLORD-Oh, Mr. Wright, up the street, an o go , all we have to do is to send up the servant and down comes the best meat in the shop, roast o.' boil, whatever we want. And I tell you, sir he has a good right, for I am a capital customer it, pkaTe''''''""'"^ '""""'* "'"""'"''"•^~^"* °'« ^ bact,JelW; keep your hands off my good leg of JONES-Yes, it is your leg of mutton, but it is n^y eighteen shillings that pav for it I cannot touch it, „h ! Then I wi,/„o-t ,„„,, J, X* (po^ntmyto th. liyuor.) You've go. more of „,; money th.s week than my p„„r wife. But please Goodness I will fetch her more than twelve sh Uings . next Saturday night. ° KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY LEG OF MUTTON. 8» SCENE II, Jones' house. He has just returned hmne on the Satur- day night succeeding the one on which the event of lAist scene took place. JONES-Here, wife, is your share for this week, {hands her some money.) MARY-Whj James ! What does it all mean. Look ! look ! here is a sovereign ! JONES-Indeed, Mary, you may well be surprised, It 18 the first full week's wages you have had for a ong time ; but, with God s help, i. will not be the last, Mary— James, have you not been to the ' Black Bull ' this week ? JoNES-No, nor will I ever spend a shilling with the fellow as long as I live, MARY-Thank God, Oh, James ! we will do well jet if you only cai-ry out your good resolution. JONES-Well, kss, I mean to do so, and I know you Will help me all you can. MARY-That I will indeed ; but you must re- member James, that the strength needed is not our own. J0NE8~Yes, I know that I will be strongest to resist temptation, when I fully realize my own weak- ness. And now, dear, put on your bonnet and shawl and I will go with you for that leg of mutton, which 1 promised you. 84 CANADIAK PEOHTBIXION REOITEB SCENE in. ^ butcher's shop. Jones {examines several Un« ^/ Md cm one savs l^n ^ ^ '''''"'^ <^^hamr^ butcher? ' ' -^^'^ ^"^'^ ^« thiB a pouni BcTCHER-Eleven cents, sir Jones— Weigh it SCENE IV. Outside tJie Landlorh's /.^ t ^^-> .'ay W jTME?r ''""^««-^Mabvo^ Jonf. tt , *^^-^^ ^^ *«.y« ^<> Mary - JONES— Here is the ' Black Ri,ll ' <\ -"^aky.— a minute. ^^act iJulI let us go in for and I an. just g„i„g%„ pf; ^j^^ '''^ ^*- " «fle, X wrr.:r:r5tvtr '^?'^ '-!'-* --^ in his debt. (Tlu>» L! v '"^ *''** •™» l«ft — ,.„^ weuK. 1 am ■ 'f^'/^X^^^-uSf" ^ having a pound. ads, sir. it in his ART; — 5 in for 3ing to lise so Jt. ihing, trifle, penny u left irtily en all lever I am KEEP YOyR HANDS OFF MY LEO OF MUTTON. 86 «o glad to see you here, and you have brought the 2-B with you .-glad to see you, ma'am ; hope you are well, ma'am. James are you going to take L Z:ZIXZT''^'''--^' ^^-^^esing LANDLORD-Why, James, what's the matter? Have you been unwell ? or have ycu lost your work ? JoNES-I have not been unwell, nor have I lost my work, for master thinks more of me now than what he used to do. He says he will raise my wages a couple of shillings a week, if I do as I have done this week. LANDLORB-What have you been doing, James? tell me, my lad. Jones {opening the basket.)-! have been to buy a leg of mutton. Isn't it a nice one ? Landlord (advancing towards the baskel)—Let me have a peep at it. Jones (pushing him back strmgly.)-.^tand back fellow ! keep you dirty hands off my leg of mutton! 80 now, neighbour landlord, I bid thee good bye I'll go with my wife to our home ; Too long thou'st been putting my beef in thy pie, Whila't she has been picking the bone. And, landlord, indeed I can wish thee no harm, ^ But my children, they lie near mv heart ; I'll buy them good clothing to keep their backs warm ^ — ^ v^tr rr^u., lauuioru, well part. (curtain PAULS.) BARNEY MORONEY CONFUSED BY CRADLES. CHARACTERS : Wy Mobokkv, a Drunkard Bbjdom Mobomi, hi. Wife. •BM^tenVy „«fe „„ ,■ , """'• ^"■"■' "w the cradle, -hero it's .„^ till be ,n ^ ^ *"' P"' " *>""« bouchal,yeronyer feet agin' ,^°T; ^™'^' "* ««««■« s „„,^ ;/,, cradle ^,nr, ),^'^'-^'^""'"l, but what s the ma„i„. av this at all at aT m""*^^' rntd my house ! (i?„J5,„„ , , ''' ''«'' e""- frum agin, so there won't T . "^ *'» '' ^ fo" house r„ in. ,;° • j,^ ",™''- if this is n,y „™ f-givinbate:;l";^th:rr-ny.ay, ';<««>, and again face. I J^f il "■"" """ BAK»EY MOSONEY CONFDSED BY CBiJlaJS. 87 »aoi, ;« ecn^, as be/ore, to tU Wfe, but does not fall o^r ^^.) Well, to be ahnre, but this is past understandm . (Raising his hands in ostmishnL. ) Three credd.ls in wan house ! Wuz iver the like heerd tell av before? Mebbe it's a mistake I'm TlT"- '"""-^ ""''■ "°™"^^' ^- Bridget {from an adjoining room)- What's the matter wid ye, Barney ? BARNEY-Are ye sure it's yerself that's shpakin' tiJJ me, Bridget ? BRiDGET-Shure is it? Indade I am sure, ye miserable, drunken vagabone of the wurrild BARNEY-Whisht, whihst, Biddy ! It's sure and sartrn I am myself now, darlint ; but tell me, is this our own house we're in ? Bridget— Ay, av coorse it is. Barney-Do ye tell me so, now ? Dear, oh dear i What iver can be the rasiu av it ? Bridget — Av what ? Barney_Av there bein' so menny creddils here. Hev yiz bm hevin three twins, Biddy? Shure I've fallen over two creddils already, and here's another right furninst me. I'm afeard I'll not be able to get out av thim the night if yiz dusn't git up till help me. ^ BRLDGET-Indade thin, Barney, it's myself that's not likely till rise out av bed till help the likes av ye. Yiz may stay there fur all I care. Barney — Dade an' T wi]! w^t °f«- i- -i • « 1 m not gom till go rowlin roun the room tiU plaize 88 CANADIAN PROmBITION RECITBB. r *^^ °^°''^- So, pleasant dhrames tiU ye (m lays hi^nself down in the cradle strJJ l V (** both ends). ' '^"^'^'^'"^ ^^yond it (curtain falls.) MARRY NO MAN IF HE DRINKS. CHABACTEBS : Lacba Bell— a BrformAr Susie Gbat, ) /'^*^''''''' Nettie Ellis, f ''^'^tfi a friends. Morris Hall, ' . SCENE I. ^ ^^^ ^^^''^ for a few mommts. Laura-N-o, an idea, and a plan. Nettie— Wonderful ! SuiiE— Astonishing ! MABRY NO MAN IF HE DRINKS. 89 Nettie— Shall we be honored with the develop- ment of this brilliant inspiration 1 or is it too pro- found for our untaught minds to comprehend 1 Laura~Now, girls, do be serious, for I am in sober earnest, and what I wish to say is the result of long and anxious thought. Susie— Dear me, how solemn ! but, please pro- ved." (Closes her book.) Put away your sewing, Nettie. Now, Laura, you have our profound at- tention. LAUEA-Very well. Now assist me, if yx)u pleaae, to call to mind the young men in our immediate cir- cle of acquaintance who use intoxicating liquors • also those who use tobacco. ' Susie— Oh ! I like to talk about the beaux I caught two splendid ones at the skating park last xiight-but I forgot-we're to be serious. (Puts on •a long face.) Laura— Let me see. There's George BosweU. smokes. Ed. Stacey, smokes, chews, and drinks oc- casionally. NETTiE-John West, does he smoke? yes, and dnnka too. Laura— Will Burnside Susie— Oh, Laura, that's Nettie's devoted admirer- you d best not discuss him in her presence. NETTiE-What a fib, Susie ! Go on, Laura. Laura— Will Burnside takes his social glass. I 4on't think he uses tobacco in any form NETTiE-Robcrt Baker and Arthur Wood both •drink occasionally, and Morris HaU IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) fe o /. // % >% ♦v *^' J% % U •% 1.0 I.I £ \& 12.0 12.2 IL25 i 1.4 1.6 V %. op. Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^24^^ 'A l/j > Susie r«4«i>!«j, ]u>r i^nds ) ni „• '«'» ^». beau; Ind he Zltt^: "^^ "*•"*• yesteHay with a meerehal i„ V " ^ ""** '"'» y-ri long. And he ^0'™^! ^ r^f" "^"'^ » iim drink it. ™' '°°' '^'' I We seen Laura (e«fen-M« ^* "' "'""'^ °*' «« addieted to habit,™! 7 "V"''?'""' '««' yet aU -ate slaves of th^^^ ^tTft ^''^''"""^'' ^"^ debases a man nhv„v,.ii "^^^^'^ mjures and ■»« learned pVsl^r""''"" "^ *"--' --ent "aftTd-S'so"^""' r '" ""•-«• ^-to ject « '^ '" "^""^"^ ^ '«8»«1 to thfa s„b- ^. ^ad^e t^: „::: :rd::;^;hX"rmr - chewing gnm or aniseed to dislTst tZ' f""^''»™ MAKRY NO MAN IF HE DRINKS, 91 had imbibed at the houses of the numerous friends whom they had visited, seemed more strongly sug- gestive of a bar-roon than a lady's parlor. Not one of them, I suppose, has ever been intoxicated, or haa caused his friends any anxiety by this very moderate, temperate use of spirituous liquors ; but I contend that they are all in imminent danger, for this insi- dious appetite will increase and become more and more powerful, until its victims are drawn down into a vortex of degradation and shame, bringing ruin upon themselves, and sorrow and misery to kindred and friends. Susie— Nonsense, Laura! you hare suddenly turned preacher, and are trying to make out inno- cent things to be great sins as black as crows. Some of the very nicest, handsomest young men I know- real tiihtop fellows— smoke and chew, and sometimes take a glass of something to drink ; and I don't see that it harms them. Of course they know when to atop. I wouldn't give a straw for a man who hasn't a will of his own; its only weak-minded, soft-pated men who get drunk. Nettie— Laura, I am truly glad you have intro- duced this important- subject; I heartily coincide with every sentiment you have uttered, and will join you in any plan you may suggest, that will enable us to do what little we can toward eradicating the evils we have been discussing— especially this mode- rate drinking. Susie— As to the assertion, that the use of tobacco is injurious, I'll not attempt to refute that at pre- il I li E 11 92 CAKADUH PKOBlBmoN EECITEB. sent, for X am such an ismomnt lau only make sport for v^r, *^"'' ^ *<»■" what is thSIoZ^ ''"""^ '**^- But about U , Ce ^"r^f''^ """ '''^^^'- «ood cigar; :" r:^^T„e" " *'*' ""^" «^» on the subj^t. ^ ' ^ °'™'- "P^"* a thought hair? Mkrc^' f '™° ''^ ""*«" ■»<» <^^.ting/::iXthf.™rii'':r':''«'''"^' even on the stem nn/ . ' streetcars, and the same nui:.?::::;,,:tfr»' church., to escape i^ u„o,ean p^^et^ "^/J::;;^*- --<» nght home-what man would live w^tl a v."" when g«eting him fondly on hi 7 *' "''»' would put up her mouth tnK I .^ ^ """'""' ''»'"<'' of toba^o juice Iter W .''''''' ^"' *" 't"™ puffawayatastrongcigaroTl » ^"^ "'"' after all a,. u "^ "'" »"* a nice thing, oon.e rf our ' rjf "] ^ '""™"- «'- thai am confide:; ^ot tt f^^ "t;'""- ^ seen at the bar of a!! * ° """'"^ *^«'- he 0* -.^"'.~r.ir -*L--^ MABBY NO MAN IF HK DBINKS. 93 Will be found at such places-men who have lost aU self-respect. LAURA-But What sends the drunkards to these places especially those whom you denominate as just hecomAr^ drunkards?" Is not the appetite formed by the "harmless glass" that you speak of 80 lightly, that is passed round at social parties, re- ceptions, and weddings until the desire for strong druik increases, and they then resort to restaur ants and saloons ? NETTiE-Really, Laura, I view this subject in a different light altogether. You have given me some Ideas that I shall not soon forget. But what is to be done ? what can be done ? SusiE-That's the question. I admit all that Laura has said, but what u th. use of groaning about a state of affairs that cannot be changed ? what ^. to be, v^ill be;" that's my belief, so let's stop this long talk and go out for a walk NETTiE-Not yet, Susie. I think Laura may suggest a plan by which we can accomplish some- thmg. Susie— Oh, you stupid, tiresome old fogies ' well I suppose I must be .resigned. \Puts on a comizal air of resignation.] LuARA— Yes, we can accomplish something It 18 part of woman's mission to refine the minds and elevate and improve the morals of men. We have a broad field before us; let us begin from this day to exert an influence upon our male friends which Will result in their attaining to a higher standard of «4 '' I CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. with .n°™v "• ' L 'f ""' P™"*'"'^ '-"--tent Tobacco Society tJiy. ^^^^"""'<^ '"'d Anti- ^ J™. [r.. aW.W].-_Ye.,/tbat-s the ver, abler:i,;\ta ""'""' *°^''™^-«d - va.«- a -dioal when rtr '" """ '"" "'" *-"> ^ ject. fail, ;4c:!rrh^r^itr'' ''" ^'"- <»™oke, chew, or drink Ittn^'fT"""^ liquor morp +J.a« i. ^^^ tobacco or pX^ce "' '" '"" '"o ^''^ "«-«* ot the both .ing a differ^:' 1 1 wW t r""^^' ''°"'" Hers that I know h,n„ ! ^"""S <^^»- andj„drin»b^I'„- PP" *" >»? ti-' question;" heroic .solutions a^ornt t^ ' "^ "' "^ ^•'** ^°" welT^l^I: :L:^ "^ '"^' -" -- what 7 lo the question-poppmg part „f y<,„ „. MARRY NO MAN IP HE DRINKS. 9f mark, I will only reply that if Fred Allen does not propose to you before a week has passed, I shaU be much surprised. ^vsiE[Sj)ringingupha8tily.]—Therel Fred is to call for me at four o'clock to go to the picture gal- lery, and I had forgotten it entirely. I shall not be ready in time, I know. [Hurries out.] Laura— What a careless, thoughless creature . [A rap. Laura goes to the door and receives a Utter. Examines the address and delivers it to Nettie.] Something for you, Nettie. ^^TTm—lOpens letter; reads a few lines, and seems much agitated.] Excuse me, Laura ; I will retire to my room to read and reply to this comma- nication. Laura— Certainly, Nettie. [N. retires.] That was Will Burnside's writing, and from Nettie's agitation, I should judge it to be a proposal. Her newly formed resolution will now be tested, for Will loves the sparkling wine. Suppose / should be called to decide this important question, would my courage waver ? If ever a man loved woman, Mor- ns Hall loves me, though he has never revealed it in words. How generous and kind-hearted, how noble and unselfish he is !-and yet he is a moderate drinker, and smokes to excess. [A rap. S/ie admits Fred A^len.] Good day, Mr. Allen ; be seated. Allen— Thank you ; is Miss Susie ready ? [Takes something from his vest pocket and puts it in hig mouth] Laura— She will be down in a few minutes. Ex- F? '» 96 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. :cz"er:;r^ >----. tow n«e something whil '" ^ "'"' "^"^'™"« <» -which . ''''■"''-y"" undersbmd, Miss Lau., pl^r'~''°" "" ' ""««-*--' -tes- ,o« ex. -pposed to take an inte^ 't f; thThLr "" ""^ barrassed me somewhat, I have in ^' ^"V"' presentsome aromatic seed • thjl L""""' "' member. ' '""»<' ^ tben. this s«dd~<«zriT'°r'^- ^^• dulgences ? PPosmon to these harmless in- possible, atone tArfptr """^^ ^"^"^ «» ^^ « M*RRV NO MAN IP HE DKINK8. 99 MoRH,s_But there can be „„ poaaible danger for ,*o myself or „„p,ea«ant to othr tn^ ^f'TT mg to exce.B_that can never be forT !> "''" fh!^^T^~~f''^'''^ "^y ^^^^ «P^aking, Morris but the odour of cigar smoke iUi h "^^rris, but this »on.ent is Lia^^li^:^^^^,'''-'^ """ ^ over thoffi,^ . -^ "'""^ft^^^aole. I assert, more- »elSe St an7r"':r""'^<' ■»""'' *« --'"^ sensibilitTes Cari^^v .^r^^L '"""""« "^ ""' alcoholic drinksTd f ^fC *''' °™*'""^'' ^^ »' arinks, and are the remto of drinking n^f the causes, (i-a,,,^ ^ „„„^ have fi. f solved that I will marrv „n . "'^ "^ "lu many no man who vield.. tr. *i,. tempter, even to the smallest extent • 1/ v «=knowledgi„g myself in need of rem' •; 7^!' hetmying a want of confidence in 'v ^' firmness, integrity and stabi "ty DoTot TT ,? ' » test of my love dear T. ^""ot make this hand.) ' ' ^*'"*- (^^"^ <»*«» *«• nevtt So^l^r-^'r"^^" ^^--.^-^ u« more to me than at present. I hav^ ^i^ nessed too much sorrow and siring J^l;^ 100 CANADIAN PKOUIBITION RECITER. :1l mtemperar.ce of men who once dnmk no more than you do ever to unite my destiny with that of any but a pledged teetotaler. ^ bhght tho ha,,p,„es, of one who loves you so fondly » will you not relent ! ^ «v . LAURA-Moms, my decision is irrevocable ! (Takf, He U "':'r'"' °"'-' ^°-" ^l-^ <•-'- - past." He could not bear the test. Oh, Morris ! you W left belund you a sad, aching heart, whose love is yours^alone. (Cor,., ;„, /«. „» ;^. ;^„^^ J Susie (flhw^ „^„^„, _^^„,„ ^^^ HalH H ". !rf ""^^ ""' ^''^ "<""» "> Mo^i' ae Evil O I ■"" "' ^ ""^^ '-' J™* <« *''»''«t ae Ev,l One was after him ; and though he alml «pse me m h,s mad flight, not one word of apology d.d he offer. If I didn't know him to be yZ fevonte, I should tlunk you had rejected him iect^d""* ^^t'"'"^ *"■ ''^'"^)-No, Susie, fe has re- jccted me. I was in the balance on one side, his .oc.al glass and cigars on the other. Ilis love for th„ stronger than for me, consequently I an. SvsiE (Samn,j hm- hmcU in oste^MA™««)_WeU Uura Bell! so you have been absolutely reducing your h,gh-flow„ theory to practice, and have lost thf handsomest man (but one) in town. You are de- «rf^ly the most unmitigated goosie I ever saw . Well, " what ,s to be, wUl be," I suppose. But, Uura, ril tell you a little seci^t that 4 help to MARRY NO MAN IK BE DRINKS. IQl cheer up your apirita. Fred and T a,.« If t?*~f"' ^ •^''"''* '"«'^' ^hat I have clone mate a model husband //' ' " "im. Hell whence thieler::::',"""™' ""^ '""'- ^™"' Jeot^TJontntf "■•'"" ^^ '"^'-'on. I con- 8»e Y„, •^ ''™*'°" 0*^ '°™ and offer of marri- ' «8e. You are aware that Will Burnside has ber„ xnj constant attendant for three years and ^ that tin.e I have never Wn iZ'tXtrf -ean or dishonorable act. Had this anyone 102 ;M !i ir CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. day earher, I should have returned to him the un- hesitating acceptance my heart would have so ear- nestly dictated. But our convemtion this morninR has materially changed my views in regard to cer tain things, and in my i^ply, „Mch I dispatched some time ago, I ' ■ ' ■ • - - ,. , , - acquainted him with the convic- t.ons of duty lately aroused in my mind, and stated my determination to mariy „o man addicted to the u of strong drink, as I should constantly be haunted with the fear of becoming ihat most wretched of be.ngs_a drunkard's wife. I am sure, Laura, that you commend my decision, lAUBA_I do, mo.,t heartily. It is the only safe course. During your absence, I have had an inter- view with Morris Hall, who, being compelled to leave town to-morrow, desired an answer to a certain important question. My reply was, in substance, the same as yours to Mr. Burnside; and, though I reasoned with him long and earnestly, his pride could not tolerato the idea of being bound by a Pledge. Finally, he left in anger; and, though I would not reverse my decision, still I foel very sad, for Morris has won a place in my heart which no other can ever fill. NETTiE-Accept my sincere sympathy, dear friend, and let ^e cheer you with the thought that a little refl ction on h.s part will bring hia. to your side agam. And now a word in reference to our conver- sation of this morning. If we intend to carry out our proposed plan, we must have a book prepared MARRY NO MAN IF HE DRINKS. 103 for the signatures of all gentlemen whom we can impress with the importance of ths course Laura-I think I have one that will' suit our purpose admirably, [Exit) te»«^?2,) Darlmg Nettie, I have just received your note and could not resist the impulse to comfto you ^mediately. Did you dreai for an Tstant tha I would let any foolish habit inten,o^.^ Tn ob stacle between me and your precious se. , No dearest; I w.U gladly submit to your ve,^ reaZ: have myself been m serious doubt aa to the safety of th^ social drinking custom. It only needed your sweet womanly argument to establish my convic- tlis litrr I"""""" ""''' --o'-'rved.) And now this little hand is mine. (Kiem it). Ladea— Ahem ! (Omgh,). Bdesside {StaHing)-Why, Miss Laura, you en- tered so much like a spirit, that your ;uddenly revealed presence startled me. Lauba (JEo!;««;3,)_Spirits don't wear high-heeled gaiters, and cough to attract the attention of mortals Mr. Burnside. Nettie, I find, that the book I rl ferred to haa been used for another purpose, and we have no other that will answer - ■><• we BOBHSIDE-There is a book store at the comer, lad.es. I shaU be happy to supply any want. Lauea— We accept your offer with thanks, and i 104 CiKADUN PEOHIBITION BEOITEB. St^"" *" P™™" '■"• ™ ''™''» W-k toot, ia wiich we propose to write a Pledge Bi.iNsiDE_I will retiiri, ,„ °„ j (J'asi). '"* moments. NEiT,K_A„d I will get the pen and ink. (E^S -^ ^«„o,)-Nettie is happy ; and /. t a^ P^ar so, even though ray heart should break in tL MoREis (^;,/,«ar, „« tU open door~„au^, a nu. and I thank you earnestly for the frankness with which you plaeed the ..bject before mtlndThe ^urage and firmness with which you comCd my ?Sranr^;ZtraT- -" - ««t «P. If that wJd Susie Gray should catch ;ou MARRY NO MAN IF HE DRINKS. .106 in this attitude, we should not escape from her saucy tongue for a month. •' MonRis-I don't care for Susie or any one else jnst now-In. too happy; but to spare your blushee, I wJl assume a more dignified position. (Ku,,,, h^r M, andepnng, up, just „, Nettie enters at «.. ^ W.-Thant you. No. for the Hedg.. MoBBis-What a moral revolution would be pro- duced m soccty if other ladies would adopt Ld 7 *''1P™<^'P1'^ y»« t™ ao firmly advocate < NETT,E_There is no earthly reason why it should not be so. I am amazed and ashamed that I have lived so long in ignorance of my duty in this respect. LAtjRA Attention. (Beads.) " I solemnly pl^ge my sacred honour as a man, that, by God's help, I wJl abstam f^m all spirituous and malt liquL wine, and cider as a beverage, and from the use of ^7fT Z7 'T '""' ^'^"S^ *° ^ binding tor lite. (Places the book ojmi on the table.) This 106 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. SusiE-What wonderful progress ! two converts in one day. NETTiE-Will jm not be the third, Mr. Allen 1 ALLEN-Not at present. It will be time enough when I feel that I need the restraining influence of tne Fledge. BuRNsiDE-I assertpositively that you need it fully aa much as we do Mica Q!„.„v . ^ we ao. Miss feusie, your persuasive eloquence might move him. SusiE-I believe Fred has enough pride and com- mon sense to keep him from indulging too freely. When I see him in danger, then I'll use my « per^ sua^ive eloquence," as you are pleased to term it I think this signing the Pledge places one in an awkward position sometimes. Suppose you total abstainers should have a wedding-now don't blush gentlemen, I am only supposing the case-would yoii give your friends nothing but dry cake to eat ? for of course wine woidd be out of the question Morris-No. We'd both ha ve some of the nicest lemonade in town, wouldn't we, Will ? (Susie and if RED laugh heartily.) SusiE-Lemonade with wedding-cake! what a funny idea ! But to speak seriously, the Bible recommends wine, though I don't recollect the exact words. Refresh my memory, some of you. LAURA-Who hath sorrow? who hath conten- tions ? who hath wounds without cause ? They that tar^ long at the wine ; they that seek strong drink t BURNSIDE-Wine is a mocker, strong drink is converts in . Allen 1 ne enough ifluence of sedifcfullj persuasive and com- oo freely, ny "per- rm it. I le in an YOU total ti't blush, ^ould you It? for of he nicest JSIE and what a e Bible le exact conten- ley that f drink ! rink is MARRY NO MAN IP HE DRINKS. IQ? ^gmg, and whosoever is deceived thereby is not NETTiE---Be not among winebibbers, for the drunkard shall come to poverty ! MoRRis-Look not uponthe wine when it is red btTh tr''"" ''' ^^^^"^ ^^ ^^^ -P' '- ^^ ^-tt biteth hke a serpent and stingoth like an adder ! {Tke four ^n concert)-^^o drunkard shall enter he kingdom of heaven ! (Susie and Fred elevate th^r eyekro.,s, and raise their hands as if overwhelmed hyje te^ts that follow each other in quick succession ZZ) ""^' ^^'' ''"'' "^'-'''^'-^ -^' - (CURTAIN FALLS.) SCENE II. Lauba and Nettie, (/« _/i„^ ,„„„, ^wa of the Pledge-book. Laura -As six months have elapsed since the- jnaug„rat.ou of „„. total abstinence movement, I thought 1 would look over our little book, and I find .t contams fifty-eight names. We have been &r more successful than I anticipated I nft""!!!- 7^ r ^°" ''*™ *''" PMge-book, Laura ; I often thmk that had Fred Allan's name been in- « zn .t, he might not have fallen. His boasted pnde and self.resi>ect have not restrained his ter- nble appetite for liquor, for he is now a common -Irunkard. I met his wife yesterday, and could V 108 CANADIAN PROHIBITION BEOITES. 1 li J scarcely recognize her as the saucy, light-hearted Susie who, six months ago, laughed at what she called our " old-fogy notions." She has changed sadly, and T have heard that Fred is very violent and brutal when intoxicated. Susie. — [Enters, plainly attired, and in a state of great agitation.^ Dear Laura, will you kindly give your miserable friend shelter for one night ? Laura. — Certainly, Susie, for as long a time as you wish to stay. \Lead» her to a seat and stands by her.] May I inquire the cause of your trouble ? You appear to be unhappy. Susie. — You are all old and true friends, and have, doubtless, heard of the sad life I have led since my marriage, so I will speak freely. I had not been married a week before I ascertained that my husband had, for a long time, been drinking much more freely than I or any of his friends had imagined ; in fact, he acknowledged that he often drank in restaurants and saloons, side by side with the most degraded drunkards. For two months past he has scarcely been sober a day. His busi- ness is totally neglected, his money squandered among vile associates. The constant and excessive use of liquor has transformed him into a fiend, whose brutal cruelty I can no longer endure. If you will permit me to remain here to-night, I will to-morrow return to my parents, who live in the country, about forty miles from this place. I left them a happy, merry bride ; I shall return a brok- en-hearted, wretched woman ! [Heavy footsteps are ^M. iH^.i^A^iirJSiiM.'i^'r'^i. MARRY NO MAN IF HE DRINKS. 109 W approackir^, and a loud, angry voice exclaims^. Where is she?" Susie crouches in terror behind Laura.] ALLEN.~-[Throw8 open tJie door violently, ffis face r^vy red; eyes glaring with rage; clothing tarn ani soiled,] Where is my mfe ? Ah, you need not try to hide, madam— I have found you. [Btishea to her and grasps her arm.] Come, march home immediately. BiJR^swE.~.[Grasping him hj the shoulder.] Allen, you shall not use any violence toward your wife in our presence. She desires to remain with Miss Bell to-night, and I would advise you to leave the room quietly, or you may compel us to use force. Allen— She shall not stay here ! home's thepla^e for a married woman, and she shall go. Momis-lWho has risen.] The home that should be her dearest refuge, you have converted into such a place of torment that she has been compelled to flee from it. Fred. Allen, has your manhood utterly forsaken you ? Let your poor, persecuted wife stay where she can find rest and 4,eace, and go awav quietly. . , ^ Allen— Seems to me; you're interfering in what don t concern you. Didn't that woman know when she married me that I took my glass whenever I wanted it ? Don't you remember how she laughed at you for signing the Pledge, saying at the same time that / didn't need it ? A little persuasion from her th^^n would have changed my wild course and made me a different man, for I would have sacrificed ilO CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. anything to please her ; but she didn't think it was necessary, and she's got no right to complain now Susie— He speaks the truth ! I know now, when too late, that my own thoughtless conduct has brought this grief upon me. When I could easily have turned him from the path of danger, I laughed at the Idea, and refused to exert my influence to win him to a better life. I havu carved my own destiny —and hereafter I will submit to my sad lot without murmuring. Allen— Now, that's more sensible. What's the use of fretting about wLat you can't help, especially as you've acknowledged that you brought it on your- self. "^ MoRHis— Alien, reform— sign the Pledge and be a man again Allen— No, sir, I can't do it. Hum and the devil Ikave got such a strong grasp on me, that if I should try to reform, they'd pull me back again. It's no use, I tell you; as long as whisky's made, and men licensed to sell it, there'll be plenty of drunkards. [To his wife.] Con^ along, Susan. [Takes a bottle from his pocket and goes out drinking. Susie— Laura— Nettie— I hear that you are both to stand before the altar to-morrow night. May God grant you a happier lot than mine ! [Goes out slowly, weeping.] Nettie— Poor Susie ! hers is indeed a sad fate. Morris— I am rejoiced to know that on the oc- casion of the double bridal, which will to-morrow night crown our fond hopes with a blissful reality, think it was jlain now. V now, when conduct has could easily V, I laughed lence to win own destiny lot without What's the ), especially i it on your- sdge and be id the devil if I should a. It's no }, and men drunkards. kes a bottle u are both »ht. May {Goes out MARRY NO MAN IF HK DRINKS. m fallen, and brighter LT "'P'*''' ™™ *o LAi>K*_And we will still keep our Pl«)„« . i Ei'^-- "'■'»"-".. --ITS L. and N.-7'o ,.a..y no man if ke drinks! (curtain falls.) sad fate, on the 00- to-morrow ul reality, if I RECLAIMED. CHABACTERS : Oioux Stammy— A drunkard. CiMiB— Hia wile. toTM Nellie -Their child. * BlOHiBDHEKSHiw— Rum seller. Wime Hamilton— Teetotaler. OaiBLls IBACI-Moderale drinker. SCENE I. ilaf-room-TRAcv seated at a table with decanter and f"' *^<»'* ''«■ Hamilton standing by with hi> h^^ o« TBACV's „^er. ^..JJCm^LZ .if r tT~^^' ^ '"P'"'^ y°" °°» *° Jrint to- mght I have observed with soi-row that this ap- petite for hquor ,s daily increasing, and althou-h you ■"^ now what is termed a " moderate drinker'" L wj^^ere long, unless you abandon this destruoL habit, become that most wretched and repulsive bemg— a confirmed drunkard TB.cv-Oh -fudge. Will. You total abstinence men are too radical on this subject. Ifs all weU enough for you to preach to the drunkards, for they n^d It sadly ; but we who have pride ani self-coZ trol are entu^ly beyond your sphere of action-we dont reqmre any temperance talk, because we are REOLAIlfED. 118 ^y temperate. CFille ,la.s, and Hps th, li^ •lowly.) I cannot imagine how a man can so losTall self^ontrol and self-respect aa to become a Z^ed at and p.tied. There i, our old friend Staiky for cultivated mmd and more than ordinary talent and blessed with a lovely, amiable wife. It is a probkm I «»n not solve. (Mks. S. «<«.. „, <;„ o„„X^r faded and patched, hut mat and clean) Mrs. S,_Mr. Henshaw, I entimt you not to let my husband have anything to drink sh„„U t here to-night ^ ^^ """* Tou^but'7^'*'^' "'l:^'""' ^ ^''°"''' '"'^ *» oW^e you b„t I y „„^ ^ ^,^^ ^^ ^^^^ rudeness I, r tie only man who will trust him. Oh ! if IZ have any compassion, grant my prayer ! Hens. (Impatu„ay)--S^ here, madam; I think you are asking entirely too much. Suppose the wives and children of all my customers 'rdri^ -ore than le good for them, should come here a^I eToul? '""? .'*'''"'"' ■""» ^ *<"'>'' ^ fo»l«h Whv iti^M."' *^'' ™"'' *" *^« consequence? Why, I should have to close up - I couldn^ make a livmg ! No, ma'am, it wouldn't do. Selling tquor ,s my lawful business ; I make my money and support myself by it, and if anybody'drinkJl ""uch, why. It's their lookout, not mire. Here is 1H ('\HAmAS PROHIBITION REOITKR. ymr hn.unC. i-^ ^...^dy-Quick ! Hens.— You. s.^.^ A .1 'oill have ma am. lis Q no me. quickly I I'n, k • """""v— Oive u to Jr;aS" '""^-^^"' '■'" "»' 'o blame, Dick; r™ «„i4 to ::;rt .f:\rrj t-**- come back I shall w.nf ,. ' ^""^ ^^^"^ ^ live without it ,1 T? '' '""^' '^^ ^ ^--'* Can that prmr:::^:.— .f^ f^- Ais sad state. Y.t I J ■ ''^''"'""' ''<"■ ^^ drank no more than 7"™ '"■ ''^" ^i-^" he -™ed the idea of ever drin^^ir^t'lt::' "'"' '"^ mueh..c:etlTt^:;:t7"""-- ley's was never ^iven to m^r. u ! " ■^''' '^^**''- given to man ; but mm has .lone its 116 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. work SO well that ere long it will be a wreck. Were you not utterly heartless, you would have been moved with compassion by the earnest pleading of that wife and the touching appeal of that sweet child. ^ Hens. (Wrath/ulhjJ~M.u8t I repeat for the for- tieth time that it was none of my doing ? When a man's crazy for liquor, he will have it. Tracy (RwingJ—Haimlton, I am filled with dn^. What assurance have I that my wife and children may not be reduced to this same wretched condition if I continue my present course ? I can stop tww, but if I drink a year longer, it may be too late. My friend (grasping his hand), I shall no longer need your warning; I shall no longer pain your kind, generous heart, for I shall not only cease to be a moderate drinker, but henceforth I shall be as radical on this question as^^yourself HAM.—Thank God ! Stan. (Enters venj drunk)— More rum, Dick 1 I'm 'termined t'ave jolly time— while this 'ere lasts —I am. (Lean^^ heavily against the bar and rJum- sily pulh the money from his pocket; puts it all on the counter, and stretches out his hand for the decan- ter.) More, Dick — give me more. Ham. {Taking him by the am)— Stanley, you must drink no more to-night. Come, we will see that you get home safely, for you are scarcely in a condition to get there alone. (Tracy aUem2}ts to take the other arm, but he struggles and resets, and RECLAIMED. 117 rum, Dickl attempts to strike tUra, then seizes the decants- and dnnkafnm it). HAM.-We can do nothing with him at present, fo-"! ' 77"' """'' °"*^'''<' ™«' becomes out phere of this foul den almost stifles me. Come. Heks. (In a rage)-VA thank you to be a little more choice in your language, sir. Call my estab- hshment a " foul den," indeed ! This is not the first time you have dogged my customers in here, preach- »g your infernal temperance humbug to them, and mterferuig with my lawful business, and it's g^t to IrS ^-■™^--'^-P-o^'-ere,tru" ^zni^Tz ir^;^7/°"^"'''^■^"' j-ict^, wnat isit^ (With much eneray o^ea^stn^ss.) I will tell you. It is to dem'' rah^ society-to wreck and ruin human hopes and hap^ess-to crush with anguish and despair the quwering hearts of suffering ..omen and innocent cluldren-to,cons.g„ ™°'°'^' '""'^ to eternal per- Holy Word your doom is written ; and though you may com wealth from the heart's blood of your fel- low beings-^«„««5^_ the judgments of the .U- mighty are terrible to those who break his holy Uws r and If not in this life_in the great, the dreal W/te-, your crimes will meet their sure reward t if m heaven's bright realm of purity there is no place for the ten„>ted r,,;--.-! ' . • , «.. , , ■ ■•'-'*<'' ™i"ed uruntaru, where shall the tempter appear ? the heartless, fiendish drunkard- 118 I |; CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. maker, the destroyer of body and soul? (Slowly ) Beware/ for God's retribution is swift and sure/ {At Hamilton's ^/..^ words, Henshaw apj^-oacJies in great anger, as if to assault him, but shrinlcs hack frorti ths uplifted arm of the speaker, w/tose voice and gestures increase in volume and earnest impressive- ness, until, at the close of the denunciation, m bar- keeper's attitude and expression is that of mingled an^er and horror ; the drunkard still grasps the de- canter. Tracy listens with intense interest, and Ham- ilton, the master-spirit of the scene, stands with head erect and arm outstretched. This, if well perf dashed to pieces). HAM._Madman ! would you murder your wife and child ? Stan. {Lool^ loildhjfrom Ham. to his wife, gazes at the fragments on the floor, and draws his hand ucross hisforehead)~Tie^yen help me ! I believe I am going mad. Ham.— Yes, Stanley, you were a maniac at that moment-made so by the maddening poison that is consuming your brain, and burning and blasting, every human feeling in your breast ; and, had I arrived a moment later, your wife and child might have been in eternity~,jour hands red with their innocent blood ! Stan. (Groans ; presses his hands to his head and drops into a chair.)— Oh, God, forgive me ! Ham. {Laying his hand on his shoulder)— George I have known you for years. I remember well when you stood before me a proud, happy bride- groom, with a fair, blushing bride beside you, con- fiding m your honor and love ; and for a time you- were all that a true man could be. But at length the wme was offered you in a social circle of friends you did not desire to taste it, but you thought it discourteous to refuse, and when I besought you to- beware of the first glass, you assured me that it should be the last. That glass led to another and. WM'is '-'-..^JSf'i'-fi'ai S I SlTK.'JWl^'in "^r KECLAIMED. 121 • your wife another; and, although you did r.nt i, druntarri of „ ^7 "°* become a dranfcard at once, the appetite for strong drink in created gradually and almost imperceptibirunffl Ohlow ifh ^-""r'' *" '"^ ™tWess destroyer. Oh, how It has grieved me to see the honored friend of my youth thus debased and enslaved ! Look Ts horn? T''"- '^''^" '^ '"^ P'-»'. >->■ nous home, whose cosy, cheerful fireside was once the "dearest s,>ot on earth" to you! Where s the rosy, light hearted wife who greeted "" *n :r "'"'" y»"''°--d Sled so sweetly ,n their innocent glee! (Mrs. S .inks pal a Je '' ' °'''"'^"' P»™rty-arked place a pale, weary woman and frightened, shiver- the sound of your voice; and (wlemnM in the chnrch-yard a little giuve under the snow^i. wh cl hes a baby form, forever at rest, undisturW by the spark of life and set its little spirit free ! ..^^"■-('^'"■''"'V '"» «"'« wiUly in tl^ air.) For God s sake, stop ! Your words pien,e my hear like ten thousand daggers. Oh, that I could blot out the awful past! that I could be f.^ from this ao relfeirj^' ^''' '^'"^ ""«^ ^--'■» '-e never felt its power cannot dream of the fearful speU It casts around its victirns ■n/i,.* i,„-. . ■ ,, V, *!,„ . 11.,. —'•"»■ .. Hat uopu is there for the wretched inebriate who desires to reform, when 'PS! I 122 'I? h M CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. every other house is a drinking saloon, from which the jingling of glasses and the fumes of alcohol reach him even on the sidewalk as he passes, till, tempted and maddened, his good resolves are forgotten, and he IS drawn again into the whirlpool of death and destruction? I ask again, what hope there can be for me ? Ham.— Rely on God, my friend : make an effort to assert your manhood bravely. May God give you strength to conquer and be froe ! Nellie— (JFAo has been standing quietly beside her mother.) Father, why don't you pray? When I had nice clothes and went to Sunday-school, my teacher said that God would helji everybody who tried to do right, if they would only ask Him. Stan.— Pray ? my child, I can not ! /, who have mocked and blasphemed God so long— who have only called on His name in curses and oaths!— how could I pray 1 NELHE-Father, I will pray for you. (Kneels facing the audience with clasped hands. Mrs. S. advarwes quickly to her husband, takes his hand and leads him forward, and they kneel, one on each ^de of the child, who utters slowly and distinctly the words of her little petition.) " Our Father in heaven please help my dear father to be a sober man, and do not let him drink any more. Make him good and kind to mother and me, and then we will not be sad and cold and hungry, and poor mother will not grieve any more. Please hear little Nellie's prayer, and answer it for Jesus' 3ake— Amen !" ^SST^^TTSnSiSa&sssjaBs&iaijiiB*. RECLAnfED. 223 hent ^n an atUude ofprojound reverence.) Amen ! (curtain falls.) SCENE III. Paklor-Stanlev, in morning gown and slipper,, reamng. His wife engaged in fancy wormHnd. Everythi,u, cheerful and nmt. Jtonand Tracey aa I came home, and invited them a ^r ^T^"''^^'^' <'<'« G^o'-g^'. "-e could not have a more welcome visitor than Willi, Hamilton. To h™, through God's mere,, we may attribute our present happiness and prosperity. [■i rap at the door.] Mm. S-(Admimng the two friends.) Ever wel- come . (She and her hushand. greet them warmly, and all are seated.) "' Nelue-Y^^W^ i„.; Oh, mother ! do help- tat,* I "'Mr Hamilton. (Jiuns to hin., Ind i. am «o glad to see you ! Ham.-(^««%; puts one arm around her and ^nooth.^ her hair.) It is really pleasant to r^ive so warm a welcome from my little friend Nellie TRAcv-Poaitively, Hamilton, I shall be com- pelled to leave you at home when I visit Miss Nel- m 124 I I CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. he You monopolize her so entirely that she has neither eyes nor ears for poor neglected me. Nellie (Shaking hands with him. J Indeed, Mr. Tracy, I didn t mean to be impolite, but you know how much we all love Mr. Hamilton. Tracy~( Seriously. J I know, Nellie; and I am sure you can not love and honor him too much. But what did you intend telling your mother when you ran m so quickly? ^ Nellie Dear me ! I had almost forgotten. (Goes to her mother). A poor beggar man is in the hall asking for something to eat. He is not drunk, and he looks so starved, and his clothes are so thin and ragged, he is shivering. Do let him come in. I told him I would ask you. ,h!^f' ^'7^7^^ ''^ ^i°^' ^y daughter. (Opens the door, looks out a moment, turns to hi, child.) Nellie, you can ask the poor man to come in. (^lemnly.) ^' To err is human, to forgive, divine." (JNELLiE obeys, and returns, followed by Henshaw weak and tottering, pale and ragged.) ' Hen. (Advances a few steps, looks around, and starts hack xn the idldsst amazement.)~.George Stan- ley, can It be you-your wife and child-all looking so happy and contenl^with all so nice and cheerful around you ? can it be ? No ! no ! my poor weak brain is wandering still. Stan. (Kindly.)-lt is all a reality, Henshaw. Ihis 18 my home, myhapppy wife and child. Thanks be to God and that noble man. (Points to Ham. Hen. (Advances nearer, recognizes him, and starts RECLAIMED. m ctful tl "r^r^'^^ vision)-Tk.t man ! Mer- «e d ' '".''' <"''' H*«) Oh, man! that God's ^^"1!°* "> my ears-" Beware! for r°; ^ f«tebuf on IS swift and sure !" /^e to''''- ^y a one before; ahd as the door was closed upon to. he 3wore a dreadful oath of revenge. That Sfh ho„"'b T"' '"" "^ ''"""'»- ''t'^the mid "f * W by strange sounds and 'a brilliant ll^ht ^ay about e„T ^ "' * ^'•"^o^' ^"^ ^'hed ^y-J about endeavormg to save some of n-- eff-cb, hut .n vain. The li,uor blamed up in" gr^^f;;::. 126 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. til i flames, that speedily enveloped every part of the- building; and in a brief period all I possessed lay a. heap of smouldering ashes. In my mad, blind reck- lessness I rushed too near, just as part of the .vail lell, and was crushed beneath a mass of bricks and rubbish. Senseless, and severely injured, I was ear- ned into the house of an old associate near by, and received proper care and attention. During those long, weary days of suffering I reviewed my past life, and resolved that if God would spare me I would turn from evil ways. I arose a week ago. This morning, the man at whose house I was stay- mg, supposing that I had money, presented an enor- mous bill for board and physician's attendance, and when I told him that I was penniless, he drove n. out m a great rage. Hungry and weak, I have wandered about all day, until, at last, I ventured to plead here for a morsel of bread, never dreaming that this beautiful place could be the dwelling of George Stanley, who when I saw him last, was an outcast and a di-unkard. (Pauses.) And now that ycm have heard my story, I wiU no longer pollute this scene of tranquil purity and happiness with my smful presence. {Rises.) Only, before I go I would ask forgiveness for all that I have done that made you and yours so wretched. Will you forgive, me, C^eorge Stanley? Stan.-Go ? Not so, my poor fellow. You must- have clothing and food, rest and refreshment, before, you leave here. HEN.—And you forgive me? you, and your wife part of the- ssessed lay a 1, blind reck- oi the wall bricks and i, I was car- lear by, and *uring those ed my past pare me, I week ago. I was stay- led an enor- idance, and e drove nc ik, I have ventured to r dreaminff dwelling of ist, was an d now that- ;er pollute !s with my yo I would that made rgive, me,. RKCLAIMED. 127 (curtain falls.) You must- jnt, before: ^our wife. Readings and Recitations. THE OLD BRANDY BOTTLE. The old brandy bottle, IVe loved it too long, It has been a false friend unto me ; And aa handsome as handsome could be. I had plenty of cash in my pocket and purse. And my cheeks were as red as a rose Ida beautiful aquiline nose. But now only look ! I'm a sight to behold, Ihe beauty I boasted has fled • Yo^^d think I was nearly a iundred year« old yj^7 T/'"""'^ ""^ ^""^ *° "y head ; qulke? "'"' *"'''' '^'''' *''^ ^'''*'' '^Mi» And I always am spilling my tea, _-,n„,e. 1 .^^^k X make awful mistakes, m every one's laughing at me. • I l l' ' 130 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. I I The ladies don't love me, and this I can trace To the loss of my aquiline nose ; Like an overgrown strawberry stuck on my face, Still larger and larger it grows. And I haven't a cent in my pocket or purse, And my clothes are all tattered and torn ; Oh, that old brandy bottle has been a sad curge, And I wish I had never been bom. The old brandy bottle, I'll love it no more, It has near ruined my body and soul ; I'll dash it to pieces t and swear from this hour, To give up both it and the bowl. And I'll now go and sign— I could surely do worse ; On that pledge all my hopes I repose. And I'll get back my money in pocket and purse, And also my beautiful nose. t Suiting the action to the words. THE SONG OF THE BOWL With features wan and worn, With nose of grossest red, A man there sat, like a drowsy bat, Who lifted his maudlin head ; He sang the song of the bowl, 'Mid a ragged and wretched band, And he drove a nail in his coffin lid. Each time he raised his hand. Drink, drink, drink, In the morning's rosy prime ; And drink, drink, drink. In the murky midnight time. It's oh ! to be a dog, Along with a tinker swart, Than a senseless log, or a human how. With never a human heart. Drink, drink, drink, The wine-cup never flags ; And what are its wages ? an aching heart, And squalor, and mouldy rags. Drink deep of the liquid fires, In hollow and mindless mirth. With rogue and knave, and the tap-room slave, And the yilest scum of earth. 182 Canadian prohibition reciter. Oh men with children pale ! O men with weeping wives ! Oh, why for a can of unholy ale "Will you sacrifice their lives ? They play but a dastard's part Who swear each truth a lie, Who crush with crime a trusting heart, And leave it alone to die. Drink, drink, drink. Oh, how escape its thrall ! It runs amain through each burninc' vein And turns my blood to gall. My eyes are dim with tears, A furnace heats my breath, And conscience whispers in my ears, " Thou'rt hastening, fool, to death !" But why do I talk of death ? That phantom of fleshless bone I might see a thousand shapes More dreadful than his own. The cells of my arid brain Are parched in my burning head. And countless sprites th.'ough the livelong nights. Are dancing round my bed. 'Mid darkling crowds I tread To my last accurs'd retreat ; There's a heaven above my head. And a hell beneath my feet. THE SONG OF THE BOWL. 183 Oh, ponder, pause, and pray, Reflect, and pray, and think, Ere your souls be snatched from the light of day. By the ruthless demon — Drink. It's Oh ! but to breathe the breath Of a purer atmosphere, To escape from this moral death, This prospect dark and drear ! It's Oh ! for the pleasant hours, When I felt as a man should feel. Ere alcohol had enslaved my soul, And made my senses reel. "With features wan and worn, With nose of the grossest red, A man there sat, like a drowsy bat. Who lifted his maudlin head, 'Mid a ragged and wretched band ; In a vile degraded sink, He sang this song with a dismal wail ; Would that its tones could on all prevail To banish the, demon — Drink ! THE SMOKER. I saw Iiiin after dinner, And his face was like the sun, When wearily he goes to rest, His long day's journey done. The rum had made it hot, And the wine had made it red, And a cloud was all around it, Like the curtain round his bed. His chair was tilted back, A id his feet were on the wall, ^ nd the sorrows of this world Did not trouble him at all ! For though he toiled and puffed, Like an engine or a stove. Yet he always sucked, and blowed, and snuffed, This " cloud compelling Jove." Again I passed his dwelling, In the darkness of the night ; And still I knew the smoker, Like a glow-worm, by his light. His head was still thrown back, And his feet were still on high. And he had a most peculiar look From out his half-shut eye. 'Twas morning ; and I saw him. This great Vesuvius man, THE SMOKER. And o'er the news full paper His misty vision ran ; For still the fire was there, And still the smoke was thick : And I remembered well the tales- Told of this smoking Dick. I wonder if he sleeps ? Or ever goes ab3ut ? Or is he only some machine For what? Ah, there's the doubt ! Though puffing, always puffing, He never seems to go : What good he does by staying there, Is more than I yet know. A beggar boy craved charity — The smoker " blessed his stars !" And said, " he had no change to spare "- Then sent for more cigars ! His patient wife at last complained, He gruffly bade her cease : And then cried out, " It's very hard I can never smoke in peace," 135 M MA MODER-ATION. Ye friends of moderation, Who think a reformation Would benefit our nation,- Who deem intoxication, With all its dissipation' In every rank and station The cause of degradation, Of which your observation Gives daily domonstration,- Who see the ruination, Distress and desolation, The open violation Of moral obligation. The wretched habitation Without accommodation. Or any regulation For common sustentation, A scene of deprivation Unequalled in creation,— Who hear the profanation Of common conversation,— Who know the desecration Of Sabbath ordination ; The crime and depredation, Defying legislation ; MODER-ATION. The mental aberration, And dire infatuation, With every sad gradation. To maniac desperation ! Ye who with consternation Behold this devastation. And utter condemnation On all inebriation. Why sanction its duration ? Or show disapprobation Of any combination For its extermination ? We deem a declaration That offers no temptation The only sure foundation For its utter extirpation ; And under this persuasion Hold no communication With noxious emanation Of brewers' fermentation ; Or poisonous preparation Of spirits' distillation ; Nor any vain libation Producing stimulation ! To this determination We call consideration, And without hesitation Invite co-operation — Convinced that imitation. And long continuation, Will yield true consolation. 187 THE DYING CHILD TO HER DRUNKEN a'ATHER. A UttIo^„hi,d lay waiting till death would bring She called her drunken father to «ay her last fare- He came ' while from hia blodshot eye, the briny teardrops fell. , }•"'•"' "nny "I am weary ve,7 weary; come, ait beside my bed. And V^your hand upon me; there-preaa it o'n my And l^^n, Father, while I speak, for soon I'mgoing '''woXot;-'^''^^'^^*''-^''**''-^"- ''™ Wen*' ■"■"""" **" ^°«' - <»-^ard enter, ^''"for^tt: ^'™ "^ ''"^' -^ ^-y *o -e ''""ha:toir"'^^'-^'^-^"--'e And i' the afternoon, d've see Mix still a wee drap wi'v.ur tea; This practice is o' muckle service, And certainly makes tea less nervous • But dinna ye, my friends, be thinking' By this I d hae ye alwags drinking ! Pray ne'er neglect, whate'er be said A noggin 'fore ye gang to bed ; ' Ye'll sleep the sounder a' the nicht And wake refreshed at morning licht. So this, my friends, I think we may Indulge in safely ev'ry day ; But dinna alwavs b^ « fl.ini'-'nrr Ihat I wud hae ye always drinking ! 148 > R H i I 1 144 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. So but confine yoursels to this, And naething will be much amiss ; And lecollect that men of sense Still use the greatest temperance. Bear this in mind, and ye'U stand fair to Escape ;ome ills that man is heir to, And by this plan your doctor's bill "Will lighter be for draught and pill. 'Tis true, expenses will increase, For beef and mutton, ducks and geese, But stomachs must hae mony faults That like na sic food mair than salts. But every day, if you get foo. Depend upon't, at last ye'U rue. So tak na mair o' drink or food Than what will do the body good. "Woe to the man in youthful prime. That wastes his siller thus, and time ; He'll sair repent and wail the day. When time has turned his locks to gray. THE BREWER'S COACHMAN. Honest WiUiam, an easy and good-natured fellow, A little too oft got a little too mellow. Body coachman he was to an eminent brewer, A better ne'er sat on a coach-box, I'm sure. His coach he kept clean, and no mother nor nurses, Take more care of their babes than did Will of his horses. He had these and a thousand good qualities more, But the baseness of tippling he could not give o'er ; So his master effectually mended the matter By having a man who drank nothing but water ; ^* No, William," said he, "you see the plain case. Had you done as John doet, you'd have kept a good place :" •^'Drink water !" quoth WiUiam, " had all men done so. You ne'er would have wanted a coachman I trow. For 'tis tipplers like me, whom you load with reproaches, Enable you brewers to ride in your coaches." II ; ,,, 1'! ■1 Ill i ■ 1 M 4l *■!] 1 || i iij WE'LL NEVER TASTE AGAIN. Though Britannia rules the sea, Though her sons are called the free, Thousands live in slavery, And wear a tyrant's chain. Foul Intemperance— his name; Oh ! the deep, the burning shame, Let us shout with loud acclaim. We'll never taste again. Christians, rise-these chains to break, Cheerfully your cross to take. For your weaker brethren's sake, For evermore abstain. Sober drinkers, think awhile, Cease your proud, self-righteous smile; Your ranks produce the drunkard's fie, Then never taste again. Sots whose health and wealth have fled, Sots, who groan on sleepless bed. With fiery thirst— distracted head, And horror-stricken brain ; See, the clouds of ruin lower; Now's the day and now's the'hour, [N. we'll never taste again. To break tlie fell destroyer's power, Oh ! never taste again. Sons of woe ! on you I call, Friendless, hopeless victims, all Slaves to dissipation's thrall, Your liberty regain ! On the brink of ruin, pause ! Join our noble Temp'rance cause, Bind yourselves by \ holesome laws, And ^ > taste again ! By the most endearing ties ! By your famish'd children's cries ! By your wives' heartrending sighs ! We charge you to abstain. Dash the poisoned cup aside ! Now, to sign our pledge decide ? In Almighty Strength confide, And never touch again. 147 SMOKING AND JOKING. A TRUE INCIDENT. I*- » M I A Gospel minister of some renown Once took a journey to a distant town. Yf ie got seated in the warm stage coach l"1 «-me a lady, young and passing fair ; ±f --t a whisker'd beau, w.th dafhing air They placed themselves inside ; the v„ W ^^ Swarmed to the top. AH right ! now off Jell. Smack went the whip,_„ff sorted hojes^ heds 0„ splashed themud,-round went thodW ttS", ESitr"? ^'•"'- "°^ ^''^'-^ quite att:; pU , ' "'^'^i^S self to please, ' Iroduc^d a tube, of vile obnoxious weei, ;M1 d a cigar : most ill behav'd indeed ! ^rtl2rdT;'°r "^^""^ "-P-' SmoWn„ I' ' ^ '"™* "^''''s declare bmofcmg in coaches never was allow'd ^d with a lady, too !" The Wy bowed. What do you preach in coaches, my old boy ! Do you insult me, sir, or do you joke? ^ Or do what else I please with what's my own • Do you the same ; leave other men alone " ' 8M0KIN0 AND JOKING. 149 The sage, observing well the creature's head, Perceived his puppy h-aina were cased in lead. So finding reason for the task unfit, Resolved to point his arguments with wit. Silent he sat, until the steeds were chang'd. Then, while that bustling business was arrang'd He stepp'd into the bar.—" Good hostess, pray, Let me have two small tallow candles,— nay. Don't look surpris'd ; I am in earnest quite, ' And one of them be kind enough to light." " To light the candle, sir ! you surely joke ! " " Oh, no, I don't, I want some candle smoke." Th' obedient dame uplifted hands and eyes, And to the other passengers' surpiise. Brought liim the lighted candle safe to hand, And from the sage received her due demand. The gentle lady scarce knew what to think. Until she saw one eye give half a wink. Which spoke of some sly joke he had in head ; So quite demure she sat, and nothing said. The burning candle left an inch of wick ; Then lighted he the other; what a trick! Soon as the mantling flame was fixed and true, The unsnufi"d burning candle out he blew To windward of the smoker. My good stars ! He looked as fierce as a cruel-minded Mars. Oh what a fume saluted his poor nose ! Out broke his wrath,— " Sir, what d'ye mean by The sly old man said, " Pray, sir, what's amiss ? I've paid my fare, then let me smoke, I say ; I i'l ll'.^ 150 CANADIAN PROHIBITION BECITER. Tte candle s mm.,^_niind your own business prar •" ^e lady laughed,^wlio could a laugh refr^M '^ T^e beau rebuked, with all his n,ighf and ml W his cigar into the turnpike mud, Where it lay Jiis«i„g i^ ^he puddly flood He laughed and blushed : own'd th. Zt . And kept good fellowshin Z '^ "^^^ '^"^^ 1 S uu leiiowship the journey through. CALL THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES. If cider, aiid brandy, and logwood, With drugs of all degrees, Can do the human system good By driving out disease • If augar of lead and beetr^t juice, VVith opium combined. Compose a draught of healing use To sick and sore mankind • Then use it ye with hope and fear Who in affliction pine ; But, in the name of all that's dear, J>(m't call that mixture " Wine." h ismi i THE DRUNKARD AND HIS BOTTLE. Sober. Hark, Bottle of Brandy ! Did you not promise — ay To make me strong as Samson— And rich— rich as Crcesus— And wise— wise as Solomon, And happier than the happiest ! But instead of this — villain ! You've stripped mu of my locks- Left my pockets empty as a cuckoo's nest In March— fooled me out of all my senses- Made me ragged— made me wretched, And then laid me in a ditch ! Touch thee ? No. Viper of vengeance ! I'll break thy head against the wall. But — one embrace before thou die : (tasting) Afloat 'Tis best to p,art in friendship. {Recite slowly to end). Ah ! thou hast some virtues yet ; I always thought 'twas best To give the devil his due : Ut tack. And— (^as^in^)- though devil thou art. Thou hast a pleasant face — A sparkling eye — a ruby lip A blushing cheek— and thy breath— {tasting) 152 ''HI § ■!'!■ (•I f m THE DRUNKARD AND HIS BOTTLE. Half seas 'Tis sw-e-eter than the over. Bre-e-zes that ever gambol Till the break of day A-a-mong the beds of roses. Three My ho-honey {tastvag) thou shall not die heets ^n I'll stand by thee, day and night, the wimi. And fi-ight like Her {hie) cu-les I'll tea-e-each the parson {hie) a little wis- dom. ril preach (hie) tem-per-ance too. . ^ " r^ ^'^ ^"- (^"^) k and honey, ^..o.«d And (fattin,) be the hap-pi J',,, ,, earth (hic). iBi 'M not die. It, s. a little wia- 0. St man 07> THE LITTLE SHOES. It happened on a summer's eve, There met in Temperance Hall^ A band of British working men, Responding to a call To come and hear the victories That Temperance had won, How fast the noble cause had grown. And what its friends had done. A working man sat near the door, Young, handsome, and well-dressed, His animated countenance Deep interest expressed. Another workman sitting by, Thus whispered in his ear, " Will Turner, have you nought to tell, Might do 'em good to hear ? " There's many here, know what you were. And what you once could do. Come, stand up, man, and tell 'em plain, What made this change in you." A buzz of voices cheered him on, How could the man refuse ? 8 154 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. He rose at once, and stammered out '' It was the little shoes." ' The people hushed up instantly, At this uncommon text, And sat with open mouths to catch The words that followed next. You might have heard the smallest pin ■Drop down upon the floor, So motionless the people sat, Expecting something more. The speaker felt that every eye Was fixed upon him then ; "^It was the little shoes," he said. And then he paused again. The younger people smiled to hear, This twice-repeated news. But when, once more, he stammered forth " It was the little shoes," ' A titter ran throughout the hall ; Will Turner heard the sound, ' And in a moment stood erect. And calmly looked around. A bright light flashed into his eye, He stood with steady foot. And ^hen he raised his voice once more, -c-ach auditor sat mute. THE LITTLE SHOES. " Men, fathers, friends — it was in truth, It was the little shoes ; I've not the gift to make a speech, This meeting to amuse. " But I can tell a simple thing. That happened once to me. If you will kindly give me time. And hear me patiently." " Go on," said all, " and take your time," The chairman said " Proceed," And every one sat listening. And gave attentive heed. " It was a cold December nisfht. About six months ago. That I became a sober man, And I will tell you how. " I had a wife, I had a child ; As sweet a child and wife As ever God in mercy gave, To cheer a poor man's life. " I had a home, as neat and trim As her dear hands could make, And all the trouble that she took, "Was for her husband's sake. " But I had got a love for drink. The poor man's heaviest curse, It daily gained a stronger hold. And I grew daily worae. 165 I' Ik^ lfi6 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. " ^ ^""^^ ^ ^^^^y ay, vorae than that, I'd loHt the power to tiiink, And 1 neglected my dear wife, For that accursed drink. " I let her dryss in shameful rags, Who lovej to dress so neat, I even let lier want for shoes,' To put upon her feet. " I let her watch our babe alone. That sickened day by day, Whilst I, more cruel than a brute, Spent all I earned away. " I let her stand out in the street, There by the gin-shop door, I let her stand and wait for me. And hear the drunkards' roar. "Now think of that II blush to think. The villain I have been. That I could starve both wife and child. And love them less than gin. " I never struck her— no thank God, From that crime I was free, But I broke that noble woman's heart Who would have died for me. " I tore up every little flower. Her love and hopo had set. Nor left a single bud to bloom, Beneath her weary feet. THE LITTLE SHOES. '" Oh ! when I think of what I've done, Of what she has endured, And that she lives and loves me still, And that my sin is cured ! ** I know 'twas God's most gracious love, That would not let me sink, l^or sufi'er me to drown my soul In that accursed drink. '' It was a simple little thing. You might see any day. And never stop to notice it. Nor take a thought away. *" But none the less, it struck on me, Just like a flash of light. As you may see a lightning flash Shoot through the darkest night. ■*' I've said 'twas in the winter time, The snow was in the street, I knew there was no fire at home. Nor yet a bit to eat. "** I knew it — what was that to me ? The drinking shop was warm. There I could make myself at home, Nor care about the storm. ■*' A crowd of people filled the place. Chink, chink, the monev went. A.nd as it trickled in the till. The Mistress laughed content. 157 u ::! f; i! i I m i IS ^^8 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. " Well might she laugh whiJe every glass i5ut added to her store, And she was growing rich, as fast As we were growing poor. " ^ut Wasn't that-she had a child, About as old as mine. But hers was loved and petted up While mine was lef . to pine. " f^ ^^^««^d it like a little queen. In warm and handsome clothes, And then I saw her fit on it A pair of scarlet shoes. The thought of my poor bare-foot child Went thro' rae like a sting. " I started up, I could not stop- I had no will to choose, I oould not bear to see that child In those new scarlet shoes. (chilled to the very bone, And in her trembling arms'she held My shivering little one. " I caught it from her arms to mine, I pressed it to my aeart The touch of its sma]! icy feet. Struck through me like a dirt. THE LITTLE SHOES. 15» " I hid them underneath my coat, And then within my vest, And there they lay and wakened up The father in my breast. "They lay, and thawed the ice away, My heart began to beat Like frozen limbs roused up to life. By glow of sudden heat. " It was the hand of God that made, My hardened conscience smart, It was the little icy feet That walked into my heart. " My child, thank God, is rosy now. My home is trim and neat. My wi/e — there is not one like her. All up and down the street. " May God bless her a thousand times, Who bore so long with me, And help me while he gives me breath, A worthy man to be." IP SATAN AND THE GROG-SELLER. I The grog-seller sat by his bar-room fire, With his feet as high as his head, and higher, Watchmg the smoke as he puffed it out, Ihat m spiral columns curled about. Veiling his face with its fleecy fold, ' As lazily up from his lips it rolled ' While a doubtful scent and a twilight gloom Were gathering in the sanded room. To '^-eir drunken slumbers, one by one. Foolish and fuddled, his friends had gon^ W-r.f ^ f ' '""'^ *° '^' dninkard's pain. With bloodshot eyes and a whirling brain ' ^Drowsily rang the watchman's cry, "Past two o'clock and a cloudy sky " Sut our host sat wakeful still, and shook His head, and winked with a knowing look. ;; Ha ! ha !" said he with c chuckling tone, i know the way the thing is done ! Twice five are ten and another V Two ones, two twos, and a ragged three. Make twenty-four for my well-filled fob • Ha I ha ! it was rather a good night's job ; Those fools have guzzled my brandv and wine Much good may it do them, the c^h is mine '' SATAN AND THE GROG-SELLER. 161 And he winked again with a knowing look, And from his cigar the ashes shook ; " He ! he ! these fellows are in my net, I have them safe, and I'll fleece them yet : There's Jones, what a jolly dog is he ! And he swells the way that I like to see ; Let him dash for awhile at this reckless rate, And his farm is mine as sure as fate." " Tee, he ! Tee, he !" 'twas an echo sound ; Amaz'd, the grog-seller looked around, This side and that, through the smoke peered he. But naught but the chairs could the grog-seller see. " Ho, ho ! Ho, ho !" 'twas a gutteral note ; It seemed to have come from an iron throat ; And his knees they shook, and his hair did rise ; And he opened his mouth, and lie strained his eyes. And lo ! in a corner dark and dim, Sat an uncouth form, with aspect grim. From his grizzly head, through liis snaky haii", Sprouted of hard rough horns a pair ; And fiercely those shaggy brows below. Like sulphurous flame, did his green eyes glow. And his lip was curled with a sinister smile, And the smoke belched forth from his mouth the while. And how did he feel beneath that look 1 Why, his lip fell down and he shivered and shook, And his eyes to that monster grim were glued. And his tongue was as stifi" as a billet of wood. But the fiend laughed on, " Ho, ho ! He, he !" And switched his tail in his quiet glee. 1«2 CANADIAN P«OH,BmoN fiECITEH. "Ho, ho !" says Nick, "'tis a wel-ome cold Yo.. gxve to a friend so true and old ^''"*-';-°foryea«i„y„„^^' Knnn„g about like an ,n.and boy ;'^' ^"*7^ """*'•''" out, for I clearly see That you're rather afmid and 'fj ! Do you think IVe come for 'T t"''%'' "^ Youcan'tbesparedforalLiliLetr^^-' Whr;' W PeL'f ' f^ "^ -"'^ '" '- « ways ot Peace to the paths o" ^• • There is trusting Love in h^ u ! "'' j-earewfj:::,t:Sa:."^'^- Ov" yi *;:™^''' '"- - Wight to shed' Till th.; , ^' P"""^ ^'"^ tJ-e fei"-, M then. Ws a. crushed by the fieH Despair. This as the work you've done si «.ell Cumng this earth and peopling hT Q..ench.ng the light on the inner shrine Want?n7"""'''"'^°'^»^'^-*'^ne; Want and sorrow, disease and shame ^"«1 onmes that even /shudder to nlme Dance and howl i„ ti^ir hellish glee ' Around these spirits you've marked for me. "Wherever may roll your fiery flood A«:::etLtttt:ht;rr--'-- W.h its mut.e.d curses ^ira-r'""""^^^' '^'-ed m w-ratii, is raised to kill. cold »J. 'Mge to me "er fear, re. ouls to win THE WILD DARK STORM. 163 ^'(Long, long shall it be, if I have my way, Ere the night of death shall close your day ; For to pamper your lust for the glittering pelf, You rival in mischiet Old Satan himself. Hold on your course, you are filling up With the wine of the wrath of God your cup, And the fiends exult in their homes below As you deepen the pangs of human woe." ) Hate ; ^ * Lson red ; to shed despair. blood, prayer, IJ. THE WILD DARK STORM. O tie the casement, father, the snow falls on my bed, O tie the casement, father, for it rattles o'er my head ! Don't sleep so sound, my fath3r, I am very numb and chill, And I cannot bear to listen, with the room so black and still. The drunkard heard no plaintive- voice, for death enwrapt this form, Nor the poor child's moan, " I'm all alone, in the wild dark storm." The blast roared down the chimney, and shook tho fragile wall. And the casement rattled louder, at the shrieking, angry call ; 'Tfl' ■ . 111}! 'I 4, i 164 r J-V-x J5. t' m ffffi! CANADIA^^ PROHIBITION RECITER The chiM i„ agon, uprose, J^^,, ,,^ ^^^ ^"^trir"'-"'-^" =•'<>-.» the wild da* And^..,ows fro. the oo™e, a. MUi., 3.;,,, ''"Z™!:'°"'""-"''"'«^'-^-^™'»-'^-ever, ^°-l™;^™"'-""*^"^'---'o.iMdart The little snow-drifts m-pw ■ anf^ «. i • , , slept, ^ ' ^^ «o lovingly they IXpon the raffo-ed cover! if] +h^ u-u «he said, therf „.„rbelty . - '""^^ ^^P*' within her hand ' *'"' *»<' *''™«t And d„.._i, ,„,,, ,,„,„^ ,^^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^ ''^V™Ssir'-^^---^-''oo.ehe "''^„':^:^'/-''--^ring,inthe.iIdda... Her voice grew stronger in desmir ;. ^^aken;^,-^; ° ^^ ^^^P^^^'-she could not With red and frozen iin^ers -Sina^ i , anguish low, ^ ' '^' '^' ^^^^^^^^ i^ ''Where pother sleeps, where mother lies 'tis there i want to go." ' ^ . 'I J. I her wasted e wild dai k ny heart is ing swiftly te me very- wild dark THE MARKET BASKET. 166 ^gh they ?er wept ; nd thrust and icy hook the Id dark yo grew uld not ^thed iii ies, 'tis r. I The davni looked in upon her, stiff, motionless, and >>m ; The snow laid all around her, and dimmed her locks of gold ; Besjide tliat wretched father she drew her quivering breath. And there the two slept silently, within the arms of death. Poor babe ! no more she murmurs, " O ! mother, make me warm ;" "Twas best the drunkard's child should die, in the wild dark storm. THE MARKET BASKET. 'Twas Saturday night — the busy streets Were crowded with rich and poor ; All seemed engaged but a working man. Who stood at a ginshop door. He watched neat> couples wend their way To well-stored shops hard by ; And as he marked their purchases, He heaved a bitter sigh. He thought of his dark and wretched home, Of wife and children there ; And blushed, as he shook his empty purse^ And remembered his cupboard bare. ¥W: CANADIAN PROHIBITION REciTEK. "Alas!" cried he, " whaf « f ,t At a ginshop bar, when T ^o Tn K, • ^ ^ ®*^» enouffh To buy a good dinner each day. "^■- drink I leave my babes to starve. m..r mother gro.. pale and tlr* Andn.yhon.eiscomfortlea.,beoaua; My money all goes for gia." Ao^hus he thought, a :.gfed form Wis rovmg eye descried ; O father I am going to pawn I'h.s basket now! "she said. it .s the one, my mother says. You bought her years ago, Andwi 3iegaveitmeL\vept, But why I do not know. " 'Here, take it, Jane,' she sobbing said • We ne'er shall want it more; ^ ' E.^your father took to drink, it'held ,. /"" """"y ^ goodly store.' So I am going to pawn it now, io buy a loaf to-morrow- For mother has no money left And knows she cannot boniw." <|l^'' - -»W-fci;^ ■ THE MARKET BASKET. " Stay, Jane," the father gently said, And tears came thick and fast, As he took the market basket up, And thought of all the past. He saw himself as once he'd been, "With bosom light and calm ; A well-filled purse within his hand, And wife upon his arm. " Come, tell me, child," at length he said, " How think you it would look, If I, when I come home next week, Yonr mother shopping took ? If this old basket once again Was filled with bread and meat ; And if, instead of buying drink, I bought shoes for your feet ?" " father," cried the smiling girl, " That would be joy indeed ; I know that if you'd sign the pledge. It would to comfort lead." " Well, so I will, this very night, So take the basket home ; My foolish steps, I trust, no more To tavern doors shall roam." H ' kept his word ; next Saturday, He shunned the ginthnj strife. And took his way to ;j .aket, with His basket and his wife. 167 I; i I i IP If '1 THE AUCTION. Will^you^ .aUc into the auction, for the sale is juat And Wd J, b„y. .„y ^,^,^^ ^„_ ^^^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^ Such wondrous curiosities were nVer exposed to view thZgh" '''^ '*'"'*'°" "'"^ ' read th'invenf.; Will you walk nto the Auction? A broken knife, a one-pronged fork, and half a wooden spoon, * Andamt^ penny whistle, which has never played Will you, &o. ■ ,1^ U-A crazy fiddle, without finger-boa J or nee- ^brn::^"-"-^^-- -'^^ The fiddle-bag and fiddle-stick are with it T ^..i B...^isfu«of.oth-hoies,a:d;r:rr. Will you, &c. THE AUCTION. 169 B sale is just the lots are sed to view, h' invent'ry e Auction? once been ey let the nd half a ^er played . d or peg; ■ Jscraper" f declare, Jther has Lot ITl. — An old oak-table, which has once been neat and small, But having lost a pair of legs, it rests against the wall; The top is split, the drawers are gone, its leaves have dropped away. And it has not felt the weight of food for six months and a day. Will you, &c. Lot IV. — The shadow of a chair, whose back and seat are fled; The latter Jenny burnt, because the former broke her heac'; And nov.^ thc^. ve tied its crazy joints with cords of hempen str \g, And it creaks when i+ is sat upon, ju,?t like a living thing ! Will you, &c. Lot v.— a truss of barley-straw, and two small pokes of chafi". Which have served for bed and pillows just five years and a half : ' Two sheets of homespun matting, of the very coarsest grain, And a piece of ragged carpeting, which was the coun- terpane. Will you, &c. Lot YL— L comer cupboard, witl the things coa- tain'd therein — 9 I7fl CANADIAX PKOHlBirrON RECITER. A spoutless teapot and a nm v .i. with gin : "P' '^^^^ ^«" perfume, . little fleas. ^' *^^* ^^« ^^^awn by Will you, &c. Come, walk into the Auction f through ''' ^^^ ^y ^atologue is do well to shun ■"««*— which you'll Before 3,,,^ health Ind substance t«, „e "„ • J. JI perfumed ut a head — o mice are vith grease Jonvenient »- spout, drumm'd of odds 'ents for I* ^ith per- -awn by 3gue is adieu I you'll ?oing BANDS OF HOPE. Bands of Hope ! bright youtliful bands, Join your hearts, and join your liand.s, We will free our own dear land From the enemy. Drink has stain'd our nation's name, Drink has thousands brought to shame, Thousands it will serve tho same, Or we make them free. Kise, then, for your country's sake ; Haste, or mothers' hearts will break ; Help, or else the foe will make Greater misery. Who to drink would be a slave 1 Who would fill a drunkard's grave 1 Who for truth would not be bravo 1 Let him turn, and flee. Who would know and do tlie riirht i Who would help to make homes bright 1 Let him to our cause unite All his energy. 172 CANADIAN PROHIBITION KECITER. Custom shall no more hold sway • Sorrow's night shall pass away; ' There shall dawn a brighter day, One of liberty. Forward, then, to lessen woe; Forward, then, to slay the foe ; Forward, in God's name we go. And to victory. 1:1 FRANK HAYMAN. Frank Hayman dearly loved a pleasant joke, And after a long contention with the gout, A foe that oft besieged him, sallied out To breathe fresh air, and appetite provoke. It chanced as he was strolling void of care A drunken porter passed him with a hare ; The hare was o'er his shoulder flung, Dangling behind in piteous plight. And as he crept in zigzag style, Making the most of every mile. From side to side poor pussy swung. As if each moment taking fli»7it A dog who saw the man's condition, A lean and hungry politician. On the look-out, was close behind A sly and subjble chap, Of most sagacious smell. Like politicians of a higher kind, Ready to snap At anything that fell. The porter staggered on ; the dog kept near, Watching each lucky moment for a bite. Now made a spring, and then drew back in fear, While Hayman followed, tittering at the sight. !(■ !• 174 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. Through many a street our tipsy porter goes, Then gainst a cask in solemn thought reclined: The watdiful dog the happy moment knows, And Hayman cheers him on not far behind. Encouraged thus, ^vhat dog would dare rofrain? He jumped and bit. and jumped and bit, and jumped and bit again, Till having made a hearty meal, He careless turned upon his heel, And trotted at his ease away, Nor thought of asking-- What's to pay?" The waggish Hayman laughing stood, Until our porter's stupor o'er, He jogged on, tottering as before, Unconscious any body kind Had eased him of his load behind ;— Now on the houses bent his eye. As if his journey's end were nigh, Then read a paper in his hand,* ' And made a stand. Hayman drew near with eager mien, To mark the closing of the scene, His mirth up to the brim ; The porter read the address once more And hiccoughed, " Where's one Haym'an's door^ 1 vo got a hare for him !" i \\ i^eclined ; >ws, aliind. Wt, and pay?" / door? HAPPY OLD AGE. I should like to be old like our good father Lee, That hale and good temper'd old man ; Whose face is so hearty and cheery to see, And who lives on the temperance plan. Whose heart is so kind, and whose words are so sage. And who jokes with us all that he can ; So I want to live to a hearty old age, And be a staunch temperance man. -, a crusty old soul. There's old Sits supping his brandy and ale ; He's always so cross with his pipe and his 'bo\v^l, When he speaks, why, he makes me turn pale. I'm Rure he's unhappy ; and that I'll engage. When he teases as much as he can ; But I want to live to a happy old age. So I'll be a staunch temperance man. I should like for a hearty old man to be known, And not lean for each step on my stafi'; And if gout and old palsy should ever come on, To flourish them off with a laugh. Good temper'd and free from all folly and rage, Not lifeless and woeful and wan. As 1 want to live to a hap}>y old age, Then I'll ba a temperance man. !| PETER POTTER'S SPEECH. Tins recitation dven in «i. any good broad dCC ;" ^^f :;«• ''"'' ^'"'^^ '" ''Id miith-productive ever Tw t ! "°" ^''™'''" i»g "school meetin'. for!:!""''^^- % ™>>stitut- "^^.e^ven.ppropH.HvririZr"''' ■teeter has come to a fpmr.^ fi«t time and is called o„7"' ^**'''""S ^"- ""^ «'owl,. gesticula*: 'X^J,;- ^f^- He rises very hesitatingly, ^^^"^^y' '''"1 speaks at first Meesteb Chairman,— Aw nivur know'd there war a .„,-„ t , pernce meetin ynr tl,i» ■ ^ *° ''^ » *«">■ «" -.pper. A "een d"'" "" ^^ "=■"" '"'oam per, zister Zarah i^ld ^ Zj^ "''""" *'" ^"f tempernce meetin downTur 1% t" '" ** » down an .ee .hat you ^,. '^il T'' "t "''^ ^° ditln'tmindifawdid Aw ti? !^ ^o I said aw !«" gray ^eare an cum tl C, ftr''''' °" '"^ meetin, but aw don't kaowwhL ! te-^Pemoe »; aw nivur .eed one afl , ""P"™"^ "'""''n n^ke a speech, aw nivu ::,erstrh'°°^ "^ '" «n aw ain't a-goin to make 7 ,! T '" "^ "'"' don't vou see. M- "■.-• ^'** n"'^; because -.■•.. -.-.iairTnan, aw nivur know'd there mmifi PETER potter's SPEECH. 177 spoken in '' farcical ubstitut- etin" it n. r for the He rises at first ao tem- whoam 1 arter- ill zup- o be a '^\l go lid aw >n the >ernce leetin )w to 7 life, r;4use there wuz a-goin to be no tempernce meetin yur at all this evenin till aw cum whoam till zupper, &c. {Having recited the speech once very slowly, it should he repeated three or four times accurately and with Increasing rapidity each time until the rate of speaking became as rapid as possible. The more rapid the better. The speaker should warm up with ids subject, gesticulating more wildly and awkwardly as his rate of utterance increases. Having attained the highest possible speed, he should mix his state- ments, and by doing so may produce convulsing ef- fects. Of coarse this transposing will depend upon the taste and ingenuity of the reciter, but such changes as the following ivill be found appropnate : " Aw threw zister Zarah over the hoi gray meare." " Aw niyur made a gray meare in my life an aw aint a- goin to make a gray meare now." "Aw nivur made a zaddle in my life an aw aint a-goin to raake a zaddle now." "Aw nivur made a tem- pernce meetin in my life an aw aint a-goin to make a tempernce meetin now." &c., &c. (These transpositions may be made during a couple of re- citals of the speech,, until at last the speaker is so excited and his utterance so rapid that nothing is heard but, "Zister Zarah," "hoi gray meare/' ''Zaddle," "tempernce meetin,^' &c. When this point has been readied the curtain should fall) \ A CLASS OF COLD WATER. m i f [To be recited wilh a gtas Of water ,„ the hand.] smoky fires choked w I ''"""o^K «*"', over ro, Jed w th t, e:t:er„/T°" ^""' """ ^"■ corruption, dc^^^ ; ^^T ""^^ -<•-"= ni^ . ? ^"^"'^ "'^"' ^'"''■'^ 'J>e red deer leyrwherele f ';:"' '"" '"™ '" '''^ '--* ™!- »,wl I, T fountains murmur and the rills si„.r • «"rf h.gh upon the tall mountain tops where L' .:;:f :' ^^«f « g''"«- Hke gold in th'e sul whi: « e «torm..olo„d broods,andthe thnnder-storl; crasl ad away far out on the wide wild sea, w] re t^ hurnoane howls music, and the big wa.^s roar the chorus sweeping the march of God : the e rb;-ew ^-tlns beverage of life and health-giving wa LT And everywhere it is a thino of beautv „. the dew-drnn ■ .; • ■ ,* "eauty, gleannng m e ewdrop, smgmg m the summer raiu; shinlns, n the ,ce.gem, till the leaves alPseem to tun, tf -ng jewels; spreading a golden ^il ov^ Zjt h.,_^^.m, or a wlnte gau.e around] the uu.lni,^t porting in the cataract ; sleeping ;„ the glacier ; i EEAS0N8 TOR BRINKINO. Jyg dancing in the hail shower; folding it, bright snow curtains soffly abont the . mtery world ; a/d waZ the many-colored iris, th« sei^ph's zone of the skv whose warp is the rain-drop of earth, whose woof^ the snnbeam of heaven; all checkered over with celestial flowers, by the mystic hand of refraction St.ll always it is beautiful, this life-giving water • no poison bubbles on its brink ; its fotm bring ,; madness and murder; no blood stains its liquid gl J pale widows and starving orphans weep no butnlg tears in its depth , no drunken, shrieking ghost from REASONS FOR DRINKING. ^.^r/r^"""^' ^''^"'' ^'' ^«^^°r has recom- mended him to take a little. «nfr' f •7^'^^;^«^ *>i« doctor has ordered him not, and he hates such quackery. Mr. a— Just takes a d,x>p because he's wet Mr. Z).-Drink's because he's dry his^Lt;.''""'" '" '"' " --'"'"g-i-gin Mr F. stomach. be feels a kind of sinking in his 180 CANADIAN PROHIBITION RECITER. M. G. — Because he's going to see his friends off to Australia. Mr. H. — Because he's got a friend come home from Europe. Mr. I. — Because he's so hot. Mr. K. — Because he's so cold. Mr. L. — Because he's got a pain in his head. Mr. M. — Because he's got a pain in his back. ^"^^ 0. — Because he's got a pain in his chest. -^^- P' — Because he's got a pain all over him. Mr. Q. — Because he feels light and happy. Mr. R. — Because he feels heavy and miserable. Mr. S. — Because he's married. Mr. T. — Because he isn't. Mr. V. — Because he likes to see his fnenS ^Sf him. Mr. W. — Because he's got no friends, and enjoys a glass by himself. Mr. X— Because his uncle left hgrf ^%acy. ' Mr. F.— Because his aunt cut him off with a shilling. y