The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1886-04-03
THE DEMON RUM.

Fugitive Gem from the Great Temper
ance Orator, the late John B. Cough.
Of all of the powerful execrations on
rum delivered by the late John B.
Cough, the most powerful has never
been published. 1 came across it to-
day. 1t is in Coughs own handwrit7
ing, and was delivered by him twenty
six years ago. After its delivery a
young law student in the audience, Mr..
T. S. Shepherd, now resident of this
city, asked Mr.. Cough to favor him
with his words in writing. Mr.. Cough
consented, on condition that the man.
uscript never be published while he
was on the lecture platform. The con-
ditions were assented to, and Mr..
Cough jotted down the following
apostrophe on water and execration on
rum as he had delivered them while
holding glass of water in his hand:
There is no poison in that cup; no
fiendish spirit dwells beneath those
crystal drops to lure you and me and
all of us to ruin; no spectral shadows
play upon its waveless surface; no
widows groans or orphan tears rise
to God from those placid fountains;
misery, crime, wretchedness, VICE.
want and rags come not within the
hallowed precincts where cold water
reigns supreme. Pure now as when it
left its native heaven, giving vigor to
our youth, strength to our manhood
and solace to our old age. Cold water
is beautiful, and bright, and pure every
where. In the moonlight fountains
| and the sunny rills; in the warbling
brook and the giant river; in the deep
tangled wildwood and the cataract's
spray; in the hand of beauty or on the
| lips of manhood-cold water is beauti-
full everywhere"
"Peace, and hope, and love, an0
truth dwell not within that desolating
monster which men callrum. Corrupt
now as when it left its native hell, Civ
ing fire to the eye, madness to tho
brain and ruin to the soul. Rum is
vile, and deadly, and accursed every
where. The poet would liken it in its
fiery glow to the flames that flicker
around the abode of the damned. The
theologian would point you to the
drunkard's doom, while the historian
would unfold the dark record of the
past and point you to the fate of en-
| pllCS anu lulCI " Julu Nv
the siren song of the tempter, and
sleeping now in cold obscurity, the
wrecks of what once were great,
grand and glorious. Yes, rum is cor
rupt, and vile, and deadly, and accursed
everywhere. Fit type and semblance
of all earthly corruption.
"Base art thou yet as when the wise
men warned us of thy power and babe
us flee thy enchantment Vile art
thou yet as when thou first went forth
on thy unholy mission-flling earth
with desolation and madness, woe and
anguish. Deadly art thou yet as when
thy envenomed tooth first took fast
hold on human hearts, and thy serpent
tongue first drank up the warm life
blood of immortal souls. Accused art
thou yet as when the bones Of thy first
victim rotted in damp grave, and its
shrieks echoed along the gloomy cav
ems of hell. Yes, thou internal spirit
of rum, through all past hast thou
been, as through all coming time thou
shalt be, accused everywhere.
I'm the fiery fountains of the still; in
the seething bubbles of the cauldron;
in the kingly palace and the drunkard's
howell; in the rich mans cellar and the
poor mans closet; in the pestilential
vapors of foul dens, and in the blaze
of gilded saloons; in the hand of beauty
and on the lip of manhood-rum is
vile, and deadly, and accursed every.
where.
Rum, we yield not to thy unhal-
lowed influence. and together we have
met to plan thy destruction. And by
what new name shall we call thee, and
to what shall we liken thee when we
speak of thy attributes Others may
call thee child of perdition, the base
born progeny of sin and Satan, the
murderer of mankind and the destroy
er of immortal souls; but l this night
will give thee new name among men
and crown thee with new horror, and
that new name shall be the sacrament
al cup of the rum power, and l will say
to all the sons and daughters of earth!
Dash it down! And thou, Rum, shalt
be my text in my pilgrimage among
men, and not alone shall my tongue
utter it. but the groans of orphans in
their agony and the cries of widows ir
their desolation shall proclaim it the
enemy of home, the traducer of child.
hood, and the destroyer of manhood.
and whose only antidote is the sacra
mental cup of Temperance, cold wa
ter. ~ Wooster (O) Cor. N. Y. Maj