The Kansas herald of freedom. [volume] (Wakarusa, Kan. Territory) 1854-1860, 1858-05-29
PoziavelyHo Credit.

True as the gospel, every time put up
behind grog-shop bar-a whole volume
of truth in a single sentence.
What possessed these men to so adver-
tise We do not know but they never ad-
yertised greater truth. The disreputa-
bic course of both dealer and seller is pla-
earded in large letters. They stare the
customer in the face. They leer ike
grinning devils over the shoulder OF the
seller. They dance internal glee among
the decanters, where devils are confined.
They peer down under the counter among
the kegs and casks. They shout the
truth exultingly in the ears of him whose
hands drip blood, drop by drop into thu
till. They wall, and shrek, and sob,
when the miserable serf of the bottle
pours the consuming poison in his veins.
Positively no credit.'
Not a whit, but on the contrary, dis
grace. No credit to man to be a curse
to the community he lives in, and for
money ruin his own neighbors. No cred
il to man to be shameless, and continue
in business which is deplored by human
ity and denounced by God. No credit
to get bread by the robbery of women and
children. No credit to be a leper in So
ciety and breathe out death from his den
of pollution. No credit to live and die
vile, lazy vagabond, and fatten on that
which be never earned. No credit for a
man to stand at the flood gates of vice and
crime, and let in upon neighborhood in
fluences more than Internal in their delib-
crate atrocity. Look over your bottles,
sir, and If there is shame left, and sense
of meaness and guilt, reflect that it is
Z" POSITIVELY NO CREDIT " to sell
rum.
" Positively no credit !"
Look at the words drinkers ! They
glare upon you as the door swings open,
and mark every step made towards
the counter. "Fll take some brandy"
F." Positively no credit !" Look up while
the compound is gurgling into the glass,
and face that truth-telling placard. Ha !!
shame left yet-a sense of manhood de-
graded, and of self-respect lost. That
hot flush reddens even over the log-wood
coloring of many years tipping. Got a
wife at home, Ell? Children whose pure
young hearts idol you as the projection of
all things. Got mother Perhaps she
is dead, and in some place in your soul,
the holy memory of her is slurnbering.
Were wife, children and mother standing
by you, would you herd among drunkards,
in stenehing grog-shop, and drink the
drunkard's drink ? For shame? No
credit to thus betrav your own household,
and disgrace yourself.
This placard stares at all alike. 1t
speaks the same language to the genteel
tippler and the shabby sot. Walk in re-
spectacle sir, and unders the blaze of that
artillery. call for your dram. The path
under your feet has been trodden by all
the poor wretches who have drinked and
died. You stand where they stood-lean
upon the same bulwark between you
aud degradation. The words you use,
have been used by the hosts which have
crowded the same spot. Lift the reeking
glass and drop your lips, yet sacred with
your children's kisses, upon the rim where
the most polluted have pressed before
you. Now lift your elbow and complete
the outrage upon nature. Wipe the filthy
dregs from your mouth, and then before
you turn to go out, look up over the coun-
ter, and there arranged by the rumseller's
hand, is the blistering record positive
ly no tip Wisconsin Chief.