The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1886-04-24
A d d r f S S
WOmen's Christian Temperance Union,
OF THE


Mothers, Wives and Sisters of Garrett County. |
An important hour has arrived in |
the history of your life, an hour
fraught with one of the most momen-
tous of questions, an hour laden with |
grave responsibilities. A crisis is at
hand, a question 10 be settled which |
demands the services of every wo-
men in Garrett county, a question
upon the decision of which hangs the
future of many of the sons, husbands
and brothers of our fair county. On
the 9th of this April month, will be
decided by the voters of Garrett coun
ty, whether or not the saloon, the
dram-shOp and low GROCERY, shall be
opened in our county, whether or not
the demon rum shall be let loose to
ensnare and entrap your loved ores,
or whether or not he shall be driven
from our soil. Oh, mothers, wives,
and sisters, as you sit ground the fire.
side happy family, with light and
Joyous hearts, look upon that huS-
band, son and brother-no danger
seems to be lurking near, no dark
| phantom seems to be lurking around
their footsteps, but let not the enemy
lull you to sleep when danger is
gathering arDnnd; ask yourself the
question, is there danger. is there any
possibility that any one of these loved
ones, who are now treading in the
path of uprightness and sobriety, be.
ing enticed and allured into the
drunkard's way? Oh, wife, look up
on that husband, who has been the
stay, comfort, and happiness Of your
life he who has brought peace aud
sunshine TO your weary heart, mid
days of darkness and gloom but let
no deluSive dreams deceive you, he
is but mortal many as noble as he
have fallen a prey to this monster
curse. What he fall prey to this
monster He ever enter this happy
home with the smell of rum upon his
breath. What, he ever come reeling
home with brain craZed from this
maddening fire. The future alone
will answer this question. There is
! danger the demon is watching his
footsteps.
Mother, look upon that son. With
what pride you behold him as you
| look upon his manly form, noble
| brow, and innocent cOuntenanc his
eyes sparkling in the Vigor of his
youth, and as you thus look how you
scan the coming years, and picture
for him bright and happy future.
! How you think of it as future in
which he will he joy and comfort
to you in your declining years how
your heart throbs with joyful emotion
as you thus think of him. But why
that shade of sadness stealing DER
your countenance; why that restless
heart, but moment before so joyful
and happy? All, it's easily answer
ed a thought of danger to that son
has pierced your soul. You behold
an enemy laying his snares for him
the thought of the open saloon to
draw and win him from you the
sad experience of other mothers arises
before you the thought startles you.
| The thought of your son ever becOm-
| ing a drunkard, leads imagination to
portray and paint in colOrs of the
deepest and darkest dye. the drunk
ards course. In imagination evening
has come, the lamps are lighted, one
by one the family gather around the
| familiar hearthstone, but one is mis-
sing. One whose innocent childish
prattle in former years fell as sweet
est notes into your soul, but now
grown to manhood is gone. Where
is he? Yonder in that saloon you he
hold him, you see him drinking glass
after glass of the fiery liquid with
feelings only felt by mother. You
await his coming weary hours drag
heavily along; still you wait, still
he tarries, still he drinks, and at last
in the midnight or early morning
hour, he comes home assisted by
friendly hands. He enters that home
drunk, drunk, drunk. The evenings
come and go, still he visits the saloon,
still he drinks; home has lost its
charms for him. Tight in the ser
pent's coils, he pursues his downward
course. The fatal night arrives, his
brain craZed with demon rum, he
gets into a drunken brawl, and as Il
result he is brought home bleeding
corpse, or marched to a felon'S cell.
The tragedy is ended, and what have
you left ? Naught but broken heart,
naught but declining years filled
with sorrows bitter cup from which
to drink.
Oh, mothers, what Imagination has
pictured 10 you has been bitter re-
atty to many a broken hearted moth
er. On, mothers, with the saloon and
dram shop open in our midst, such
may be the fate of your son. Wives
draw not the veil over this scene,
for with the saloons, such maybe the
fate of your husband. or such may be
your bitter experience. Sisters turn
not your eyes from this tragedy to
something more beautiful and pleas
ant. Look upon it. With the open
saloon, such may be the fate of your
brother. 1t may cause you to follow
his lifeless form to drunkard's grave.
Oh, mothers, wives and sisters, as
this scene passes before your vision,
does not the heart feel sick and faint?
Does not fearful horror seize upon
you? Does not your life blood, which
YOU would have willingly shed to
save your loyed one, fairly curdle in
your veins, as you think that this