The Hartford herald. [volume] (Hartford, Ky.) 1875-1926, 1880-08-04


der lock and key and behind iron bars
the consequence of that drink in the
saloon. Go to the drunkard's home
and see that woman lying in her blood
on the floor, struck down by the brutal
fist of Il drunken husband-One of the
results of that drink i'm the saloon.
Hear the hOwls of riot and murder in
the street--a fellOw-being is cut down
and his hearts blood stains the pave
ment-anOther result of that drink in
the saloon. q, the saloon! that fOun-
tain-head of mischiefs and villanies,
where very little virtue ever enters and
none at all comes out; where a man can
get his character so staionR in fifteen
minutes that fifteen yearsof sorrow and
repentance cannot wash 1t away--a
place filled with more ealamities to
mankind than the box of Pandora, and
more to beshunned than the pest-hOuse.
And yet, though fully sensible, both
from experience and observation, of the
enormous evils of intemperance, the
drunkard, if you ask him to take the
pledge, will most probably refuse and
say that he does not choose to sign
away his liberty. What liberty? The
liberty to make n brute of himself and
to become a nuisance i'm the community;
liberty to bring degradation on his fam
lily by his infamous alliance and assO-
citation; liberty to poison the life of his
wife and to bequeath patrimOny of
shame to his children; liberty to pay
out his money to some keeper of a dog
gerry and to be showed out into the
street when his money is gone; liberty
to be cuffed and kicked like dog when
he has no power to defend himself and
no friend To take his part. All this he
calls his liberty, and those who get his
money and rob his wife and children of
their living, encourage him in his OppO-
sitiOn to temperance societies by attri-
buting To them mercenary motives and
disappearing their mission. Drum
kenness is an artificial vice, and is the
more ineXcusable for having no fOunja-
ton in the nature of man. Ii is UNI
natural in itself, and reverses to great
extent the temperament and DISPOSE
ton of its victims. It brings a mans
worst qualities To the front and sends
his best To the rear; il makes the timid
audacious, the modest braZen, the quiet
boisteroIIs, and the peaceful riOtOus.
lntemperance alters a mans tastes,
desires and aspirations, and changed the
current of his natural affections. Ii di-
vOrces "A mans love from its legitimate
objects and bestOws it on others of a
nature most unworthy and detestable;
il makes the father forget his paternal
care and the son his filial affection; il
transfers a mans caresses from the wife
of his bosom to the demijOhn, and his
kisses from the lips of his first love to
the mouth of the bottle. While he is
an object of admiration to himself he
becomes one of detestatiOn to all around
him. He sings and imagines the mel
Ody of his voice would charm Calypso
and her nymphs; he makes speeches
and is fully persuaded that his elO-
quence would command the applause
of listening senates, while the bystander
who witnesses his performance looks on
him as the greatest goose that ever
cackled. lntemperance comes with the
appearance of joy, and quick rs the
touch of the magician's wand the scene
is turned to woe. 1t comes with the
illusion of wealth, and immediately all
is pOverty-poverty of purse, poverty
of friends, poverty of character; it
comes in the form of love, and in mo-
ment all is bitterness, worse than worm
wood; it enters the abode of innocence
and peace and creates scene of strife
and hate and fear that rivals pandemO-
MUM; il reduces society to state in
which men vie with one another in
deeds and speeches of villainy, in which
virtue is at discount and vice COM
mands n premium; in which corrupt
Ot1ice-seekers go about with bottles of
whisky IN their pockets to win the votes
of the vicious and profiigate; in which
craftsmanship il narrowed down to par
tisanism, and patriotism is changed to
a love of the emoluments of office. In
temperance produces more sorrow, more
remorse, more pain of body and of
mind than any other cause-a sickness
of the soul for which there is no balm
in Gilead, and which loses its acuteness
only by Il repetition of the act until
conscience ceases its remonstrance and
honor signs farewell. Ii takes the agil-
ity from the winged feet of II Mercury,
the strength from the sinews of a Her
cules, and the wisdom from the brain
of u Mentor-prOstrates the MASTER
piece of natures work and piles the
image of God i'm the gutter; it reduces
to mental imbecility. the orator and the
author, from whose tongue and pen the
fires of genius darted and flashed like
the combustion of meteors. And yet
the drunkard, the poor, infatuated
wretch, will sing the praises of the
demon that enchains him and lend his
suffrage To the monster that holds him
down. II. CAMPBELL.