The Brookhaven leader. [volume] (Brookhaven, Miss.) 1883-1891, 1885-02-05
A pfssraceful Mode of Mixing a
II Living.

Coz. Kinds County Comet
would every saloon keeper thai
takes the Comet, or fur that matter
every liquor s1Iler in the world wouli
read this article Now | have no
quarrel with the saloon keeper, as
man, but as a seller of whisky or
what is the same thing, as a retailer
of death, a seller of poverty, traf.
| fcer in broken hearts of women and
in bread robbed from little children.
/ can't say too mnch. As the Qla-
ker into whose house burgler had
broken said: "book out friend, am
going to. shoot where thee stands" +"
so l say To the whisky seller; Look
out, friend, am going 10 fire where
thee stands and il thee keeps on
standing at the whisky dealers coun-
ter hope | may hit thee. SO much
for preface. Look at the other
trades and compare them with this
one. Take the mechanic, day in
and day out with great brawny arms
and tense strained muscles he sinites
with his hammer till the sparks fy
from the molten iron IN starry show
erS, aud the noi,e of his shop seems
the deep, earnest, helpful, hopeful
voice of Labor and Progress them
selves. As We sit bv our glowing
fire of a winters night, and hear
the ghasily tattoo, the rain bea's on
the window aud the heart broken
sObbing of winds that seem little
'sL child, that sobs forevermorc, we
look at its CHEEKY glow and mur-
muir: God bless the artisan and me-
chanic who built our houses. But
who has a 60 l-bless YOU for the sa-
loon-kceper? The lutte girl drunk
en- fltier beats and turns out into
the cold black night A mother
that with thin worn fingers turns
her Bible and prays for her boy who
lies in prison for crime that he COM
mitted while out on 4 spree Not
much. Look at the Doctor-the
Doctor whose voice in the sick room
is tender as mothers soothing a
hurt child, and y,.t wh", when the
rain smiteS him sheer in the face
and the churish wini butfets and
beats him. sallies out in the night t.
;he side of the humblest and mean
est. Who does not pray for the Doc
tor
But, my whisky dealer, where Is
the heart that YOU make glad, where
are ewes that brighten at your com.
ing, where are the hands that CLASP
YOURS in warm, close friendship ?
suppose, maybe, it is the hand o
hani ot lhe family whose son you
have lured down To inf tny. ] sup
pose it is the eyes Of ven hollow
checked woman whose house yuur
wares have ma'lc 4 hell. Her eyes
brighten. | trow. when she hears TIN.
tread of your feet, her heart leaps
up in Joy when This dear bercfactol
OF her husband, this kind gentleman
who always gives him whisky fol
money, comes in sight. So take all
the trades-mcrehant, blacksmith
painter, lawyer, timer, baker, all
all, and somebody has a good WORD
for them all But he who bring
woe to households, he who fills jlils,
poor houses, hospitals and madhoust
cells, what can he expect ? Does he
look for honor on earth Does his
boy at College, when other boys
speak proudly OF their fathers, look
with clear bright el es and say right
manly: My father keeps saloon
Does not the ponr hoy rather find it
convenient to say nothing about his
fathers business ? Does bis family
when at fashionable watering places
delight in proclaiming to the world
how the money they spend was
made ? o. saloon-kecptrs, be men
merciful men, and spare Yourself,
your children AMI your cnuntrymen.
Remember every fl 'wer that blushes
in your wife's b Innet was stolen as il
were from he checks Oi SOM drunk
ard wife; remember every ,liamnn'
stud that flashes on your own bosom
cost a thousand tears, remem Der,
that to buy your little boy and girl
the TOYS that make their sweet pure
mouths bubble over nth that child
ish pratlle and laughter that is the
blessedest sound ON earth, many a
poor little fellow, many a poor little
girl with eyes as blue and hair as
golden as your own darlings, has
gone to he'd sol bing for bread, or
worse still has fallen 10 sleep in the
cold bleak street unler the gas
light till in ply the snow threw
a covering round them pure as their
own hearts, aud angels in mercy
took them mp To the MINDLESS. snow
less, nigbtless realms Of God.
| TuaMAS DARNEY MARSUAII