The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1856-06-28
Temperance Gssop.
Written for The Cecil Wing.
A VOICE FROM THE WEAK,
BY EMMA ALICE BROWNE.

shuddcring back of suffering, innocent child
fen-of abused, dishonored wonanhood.-
Who is it that has stained the escutcheon Of
our country with the wrctched crime OF
murder by the wholesale? Who, that is
heaping shame and disgrace upon the heads
OF those whose fathers in the old heroic years
battcd molly, nightly, bleeding at every
pore, to secure to us, their children, Freedom
and the free mans right; the right to stand
above the corrupt level of earthly crowned
and purple robed Tyranny Oh the sublime,
mistaken summit Of wise and temperate
Republic Who, that is dragging us down
step by step, lower and lower to the fiery
CULTS of ruin and despair-to the theshold Of
1lell's hottest burningl 1ntemperance and
the second death! Who, but the miserable
blood-guilty Rumselcr! The base pandcrer
10 degenerate mans lowest and vlcst appe
tite. The assassin who stabs in the dark
stealthily, but surely, the dying babe, the
neglected wife and mother. The red right
arm that hurls our lofticst intcllccts, our
grandest natures 4 grovcling in the dust. The
defiant wretch who breaks with impious hand
the shckinah Of holy homeland tramplcs
the altar fires of the souls best aspirations
meath his unhallowed feet. The craven
thief who steals his neighbours hard earned
pittance, and his neighbours priceless reputa-
tion. That sells his victims souls salvation
for the rust Of the worlds villiahy, Gold.
Aye! The Rumseller! He may wash his
polluted hands in the sea of manmon white
enough for the words favor; he may wear Il
fine coat and benevolent face on Gods
sabbath day; he ma. strive to drown the
shricks of his tortured victims with the silver
jingle of the dollars, but a wall goes up from
the ruined, degraded millions, whom he has
helped to ruin and degrade, crying day and
night for vengeance! vengeance! and the
phials Of Jchovahs wrath shall not forever
he scaled, for his justice is not deaf that he
cannot hear nor his arm shortened that he
cannot slay
We have the pest in our very midst-our
homes almost-our highways and our byways
are lined with the mouths of their fiery hcllS
from the patrcanibrck s.Ilotcl' down to
the miserable littlS plcban s'shanty: grog-
gerry. The very ground we tread is made
unh"ly by the rcelng stagger of the incbratc,
the very atmosphere we breathe is polluted
with the foul miasma of the dru nkard's
breath.
Alas! For cur country's honor, and our
country's rights. Alas for the strong arm
grown weak, the strong arm that was to the
oppressed Of all nations as the shadow of a
great rock in weary land. We are falling
from the heights of our glory and our power
-smitten down by whom by the traitorous
hand of the arch traitor Alcohol! Yet what
else can we expect when the people-thc
"ndcpendent'' peolle-suf1er themselves to
be hribed into voting it into Office, into high
places Of authority and trust-bribcd! to
sell their liberty, their honor, their saliva
ton! The people, descended from the fiery
heart, once too proud, too nobly honest to
be bribcd, even to the concession Of paltry
acres to foreign foe. We have fallen from
our young grandeur, and the guardian Angel
OF our country's fame, who bathcd with
blessed dew the brows Of conquering heroes
at Bunker Hill and at Brandywine, weeps
tears of blood and shame on the plains of our
sunset Kansas. Aye,
"0ur proud eaglo with his wounded wing
In vain essays to hide the burning shame
Rumscllers, let me appeal to you rs men !!
God breathed, and stamped upon your souls
the seal of his Omnpotence and moral gran
deur just as deeply as upon the souls of his
purcst-you it is that are burning and scar
ing out his awful image with defiant hands.
Beware my pen is but weak and trcm-
bling reed in childish hand, but in the
grasp Of truth and justice, pray it may be-
come sharp as a two-edge sword, mighty to
destroy the false and the unjust. Beware (!
the darkest anathema Numbered against you
from the church and from the Senate hath
not more force to smic the ear of God than
the trembling cry Of a dying heart, broken
Under the iron wheels ofyour heaven-defying
sin. You have souls to save; you have
honor. reputation, right, country, home to
sustain and defend as well as the poor
victims you are hurting to perdition. Do
You never realize this solemn truth, or is it
nothing' Is it nothing that from a nation Of
brave, high souled, upright patriots, justly
proud as earth's proudest we are sinking to a
Babylon Of drunkards, brawlcrs and de-
bauchees7 Is there no more glory about the
grave Of Washington, to keep untarnishcd;
no more light and laurcls and victory about
his awful name, that we dye your robe in
brothers infamy-that your patriotism is
hichering in the socket2 Oh be men! stand
up! drawn to the full height Of your majestic
stature as free and honest men-frce citizens
ola flee and glorious commonwealth. Wash
your souls and your country's name white of
this foul pollution in the bitter and sweet
waters Of repentance and regeneration. Lay
strong hand on the fiery name of the mon
stcr and drag him to the earth Hur down
his unholy Temples, trample his royal
vesture, red with the wine Of death and
damnation in the dust of the valies. Burst
the doors of his stlonghods and his high
places. Let the rivers run purple with the
blood of his destruction, and the Hill sides
blush crimson with the sweat of his death
agony. And for every drop of the baneful
poison thus poured out, oh Rumseler and
wine bibber, immortal amaranths and lilies Of