The Hillsdale standard. [volume] (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1851-1909, 1855-11-13
PUBLISHED EVERY TUESDAY ROWSON AT $l5O PER YEAR
HIILsDALE, MICH, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13 1855.
Rum, Thoa arta vIlIain--A Very Devil.

We do not like to call hard namcs--but
we feel provoked; excited. 1t is bad enough
to have our attention called off thousand
times day by some necessary interruption,
when we are trying to spin out our brains in
to somc sort of ''yarn," to satisfy our read
cm. But to be brothered, when We are
writing against time, and when we have just
caught an idea by the tail with the hope of
working it up for some useful purpose, by
the apartion of one of those most disgusting
of all brutcs, garrulous and drivelng drunk
ard, is the most uubearable of all.
Such was our fate yesterday. In the midst
Of our hurry, who should present himself, but
one Of those most disgusting specimens of what
was once mana forlorn, deserted, penni-
less drunkard. Our first impulse was to shake
off, and drive away, tho loathson,e, disgusting
creature. But we saw before us the form ofa
though the "divinity within him" was dimmed
if not blotted out, by the foul demon with
which he was possessed. Our pity returned !;
our heart and our better nature plead for him.
We remembered he was our brother though
he had fallen. /;
We knew not all the temptation and strug-
giles Of his crushed heart and his ruined hu-
manity. We could trace the finger of the
outcast and wanderer. There was an implo-
ring voice in his very wretchedness that SEEM
ed to ask for compassion and forgiveness. We
thought there might be those who still loved
him and prayed for his reformation--a moth
ers love wife's devotion, childs affection
might still cling to him and long for his re-
turn to their cmbrace.-We thought of our
own frality and ill-desert and thankened God
from out our heart that we were not like him.
We forgot his wrcchedness and his sin, and
our heart warmed towards him as his brother.
We asked for his story. 1t was sad and
comprehensive. 1t was the oft-told tale Of
the drunkard's progress and ruin. He was
once happy and prosperous-rum had made
him wretched and an outcast. But when he
told us he was a printer; that he was zone
of the craft" and that he came to seek char
ity and not work-that he was not fit to work
but only to beg--a new sympathy was AVA
kened for the unfortunate man. He had al
ready told his story to our "boys' in the com.
positor's room, and while they piticd, they
felt ashamed for the honor of their calling, to
sec one of the "craft" so degraded and fallen
so low. The fever was in his veins; the fiery
devil was at work in heart and on his brain
his limbs tottercd and trcmbled: his tongue
almost refused its Office; he asked for some
where, to rest his aching head and burning
brow. Tho boys placed him gently on 9
couch. He slept the restless sleep of the
dr,nkard 1t was the troubled unrest of the
fevcrcd idcbriate He awoke with the parch
cd lips, hot breath and rcd glaring eyeball'
of tho victim Of rum. He received the min
istration of kind words, friendly counscls an(
encouraging promises for the future.
He was provided for, and comfortable quar-
tcrs furnished him for the night. But he
kept not his promise to return this morning
He is probably away on his wadderings, ant
we cannot follow him in imagination, in hi
downward career to his final resting. place ii
a 'drunkard's grave The DEMON has fasten
cd on his vitals; reason was tottering on 1T
throne; conscience had lost its keen edge o
reproof; the future had lost all its brightness
and hope had died within him-the work o
final ruin and destruction will be short, anC
another may be added to that army Of th'
fallen on the other side of the grave, which
hell is here training by its recruiting officer
Rum.
But our thoughts dwell sadly on the poo
typo. We trust our eyes may never rest up
on his like again Daily Times.