Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1880-04-23

OF the WOfCS JuSC sung, WaICed pach
by angel voices
"Sure, ah sure, will the harvest be-"
Look around you and, enter the
home of one of your wine-drinking
companions; look at the white
haired mother bowed down with
grief ns she sees in the physical
wreck of her only son the death
knell Of all her brightest, fondest
hopes. Look at the care-worn,
weary wife, who but few years
since entered that home, q happy,
loving bride, her heart thrilling
with the fond devotion her noble
husband had inspired within her,
her soul overfowing with joyful an
ticipations. See the eyes which
once lighted up with the keenest
pleasure at the sound of his quick,
firm footstep, mark their look of
frightened expectancy noac, as the
hands of the clock move slowly
around and she knows by the late
ness Of the hour that again Ire has
been lured into one of those glitter
ing palaces of sin in which he has
st"eled his heart against every
tender emotion, every gentle I'M
pulse and where long long ago he
had battered truth, honor and inteS-
rity for a glass of rum. See his
half clad, starving, thirsting child
rem. How they cover in fear as
they hear his faltering uncertain
step. Hark! he is entering the
door. Look at him closely, see in
the misery and wretchedness around
him the harvest he is reaping from
the seed sown by taking social
glass. Do you wonder that he is an
object of loathing and distrust to his
wife, and of fear and terror to his
children? See if you can trace in
his bloated face, his heavy eyes, his
sensual lips, one feature OF the
bright, sunnyfaced companion you
knew before he became the victim OF
intemperance. And while you are
gazing on this picture Of misery and
woe, the sparkle in your wine glass
will have grown dim; the charm OF
the serpent will have been broken;
clearer vision will be given you
and you may see in the glass you
hold, the seed of desolation and de-
spair, of misery, wietcheiness and
woe, and by the help of the Angel
World you will pour its brain mad
dening contents on the ground, re-
solving hencefolth to SOW in this
cheerless garden of earth such seed
only, as will bring forth a harvest
of purity and truth. For it is no
fancy picture that I paint. The
drunkard's home you have just
looked into is no phantasmagoria;
you can see its counterpart i'll every
city, town ard hamlet.
| Dear brother, for are we not all
/ children of one loving Father? you
hno'c the society of temperance men
is better, far better than the society
l of drunkards. You kno,c that in
drinking a social glass to-day, you
are taking the firststep on the down
ward road that leads eventually 20 a
: drunkard's grave; that you are un-
' fitting yourself physically and NOR
5 ally foI all that is good and beauti-
. full in life, either here or in TIE
: great hereafter. You Lnow the wine
} cup is the sesame which opens the
a doors of our prisons, our alms-houst :
a and our asylums. and only too often
5 leads its victims to the gallows
+, that in placing 1t to your lips You
: are upturning the first shovel-full Of
e earth which will sooner or later rat
5 tie upon your own coliin-lid. Then
I dear brother, in the name of the .oy
: ing mother whose earnest, pleading
I voice, perhaps, j. hushed in death,
: the patient faithful wife WHO wa-
c your star of hope on earth, and ;he
/ little innocent chil Iren who once
p twined themselves 81 iorutyly around
g your heart, 10y the memory Of the
Il happy home of your childhood, Sc
+ endeared to you by sweet associa-
a tions, let me beg of you TO conquer
this Demon OF lniemperauce, to
n dash this cup Of bitterness upon the