Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1853-08-18

or. He whom wife loved and children
reVered. | have seen his eyes close in
death, the wife weep and the children
wall, and the neighbors turn sadly away
and say, They will do better now, he
was only drunkard.' | have followed
the remains of the great statesman to
the narrow resting place Of all living. -
lie who held senates in awe aud sway
ed the multitude with the might Of his
intellect, and governed States, as it were,
with the waive OF his hand. The wall
OF those who had clung TO hIn, through
blight and shame, was heard; but they
who once trusted him, who oEce gave
him dinners and pressed the wine cup
upon him, blasted his memory, now tha,
manhood and life were laid low together,
said, ii matters not, he was only drunk
ard
We have seen the young man in the
very freshness of youth, shrouded IN his
coffin, the mother groaning in agony and
refusing TO be comGorted, the father bend.
ing his grey hairs low with sorrow and
shame; the blight and mildew laid upon
the sisters check, and reproach upon the
brothers brow; that he was dead. His
boon companions looked on, wore the
badge of mockery few days upon their
arms, yet, among themselves, they whis-
pered, 1T is well--he could not be re-
claimed--he was only drunkard.'
We cry out as did one of old, How
long, oh! how long must these things be!
How long will the strong. the good, the
true and the great, give countenance to
the enemy that overcomes the weak and
the wavering,' perchance in the begin
ming as good and true as themselves?-
How long will the tem7ter be permitted
TO roam among US, weaving his nets and
setting his snares for the unwary?
All, falhers You, who are lifting the
winecup and saying in the glory of your
strength, we are the stronger beware!
You may be srong. but oh! you may
live to read that terrible epilaph written
over The child of your heart, he was on
y a drunkard.' Mothers! You tha,
say, 1T is no business OF mine,' can you
dare 10 remain idle all The day while hu-
mauliy groans and suffers, while all a.
round you, men born in the image OF
God are detacing that image; DESTROY
ing the last vital spark of the Deity with.
in, and transforming themselves into
beasts. Down, down, do,cn they go,
and ye lilt no hands to save. No life
boat is put out for them. No strong
hands pull the oars to reach them ere
the GlaCk wave closes over them. And
when they are gone, you say with a
shudGer, Only drunkards.' Ii man is
a murderer, dark, black as midnight, and
the law takes his abhorrel life, still, tho
we hate, we are interested, and we hear
his fate with a sigh of horror. The thief
has cur ply and our prayers. 1t is on
ly he who was once one of US, who trod
with bold step and fearless eye by our
side; but around whom the insiduous foe
has thrown his chain of microscopic
links, yet strong as bonds of iron, that
have dragged him down to perdiuon.-
II is only he whom we loathe, pity and
despise, and forgelluI of all he was, all
he might have been, al he has suffered,
all his struggles, all his agony and tears,
his pangs and death, we follow him to
the grave with cold apathy, and return
ing dust to dust and ashes to ashes, cold
ly say me was only drunkard.'
How long, oh! how long shall human,
ity thus suffer! that passion may be graf
ilied, and men gather gold.
ST. LOUIS, June IL.