The new North-west. [volume] (Deer Lodge, Mont.) 1869-1897, 1886-03-12


topic which was ever nearest his heart-tenl-
perance.
On this night, after speaking not quite
three-quarters of an hour, he glided into
talk on the deadly effects of drunkenness.
He was never more fiery, never more elo-
quent. He gesticulated abundantly, and
threw all the dramatic power of his nature
into his words. His audience was mag
netized and thrilled as seldom in their lives
He adjured young men with all the inten-
sity of his soul to abjure the serpent of
alcohol He raised his tones, and in a fervid,
powerful voice exclaimed:
YOUNG MAN, MAKE YOUR RECORD CLEAN
Immediately after it was observed that he
thew his arms into tie air, and that his
head dropped upon his chest. He was always
intensely dramatic, and the audience thought
this was mere gesticulation. Some were
even still deceived when the orator fell for
ward upon the platform. But he did not
rise Some of those present lifted him and
carried him to a sofa There was intense
excitement among the overwrought audience
then. A physician present came forward,
examined him, and said that Mr.. Cough was
stricken with apoplexy. His left side was
suddenly paralyzed. He fingered two days,
unconscious and died. Death came to him
in the way that all warriors who fight the
good fight would choose-suddenly, in battle,
with his armor on. But the last message he
left his fellow man Is strangely significant.
When he uttered the words his feet were
already upon the borders of the invisible
country.
,"Young man, keep your record clean"
It is John B. Coughs message from the :
other world
His history Is familiar to almost every
child in America. He had been lecturing on
temperance. as far back as many Of us can
remember, so long, indeed, 1t almost seemed
that, like Tennyson's brook, he had been
going on forever. Yet we find that he was
only 68 years Of age-not so very old, after
all, in these times when people live to be 1l0
But he had spoken in public more times than
any other man living, probably than any
other man dead. In one year he iectured
1856 times, 81 times more than there were
days In all he had delivered at the time of
his death about 8, 600 lectures, and had trav-
eled half million miles. 1t is not too
much to say either that he permanently re-
formed hundreds il not thousands of drunk
ards. He did this all the more effectually
because he was a reformed drunkard him.
self Those cold, rigid purists with turnip-
in their breasts instead of heart, who sit
calmly back and lecture the drunkard on
the enormous sin Of inebriety. little know
the molten fire Of craving that consumes
his soul But John B. Cough knew how it
was himself. The snakes, the scorpions and
the burning g-eyed demons of delirium
tremens had lashed him in the midnight
watches. His final escape from alcohol is
one of the most magnificent triumphs of the
human will on record, if it was indeed
simply that, and not also a power outside
of and beyond himself.
John B. Cough seems to have been raised
up to do great work. He himself always
felt it to be so His gifts and the money
they brought him were alike used for the
good of his fellow man. His birth was
English, his origin SO poor and humble that
when he was 10 years old his father appren-
ticed him to family coming to America.
He sent the boy away from him and across
the water, in the hope that in the new world
he might rise above the poverty and lowli-
ness from which there was no hope that he
could emerge in the old. Poor people can
not afford to have feelings.
He worked on farm at first; then be-
came a bookbinder in Methodist publish
ing house. He was of a warm genial nature,
with marvellous dramatic talent. He never
had more than the rudiments of an educa-
tion. The power he possessed came wholly
by nature He sunk, in youth, to the lowest
depths Of degradation. He was discharged
from one situation after another. He mar
ried. but lost his wife and infant child by
death 1t was said that his drunkenness
partly caused the death Of his girl wife. He
felt as if it was so, and drank deeper to
drown the sting of it. A Quaker Mr.. STRAIT
ton, found him reeling crazy drunk through
the streets of this city in 1912, and induced
him to go to a temperance meeting and sign
the pledge After that came terrific strug-
gle of week to keep the pledge The
struggle nearly killed him. He came out
of it weak as an infant, but he triumphed
Shortly afterwards he began lecturing. The
chapter of his autobiography in which he
described the horrors of that week is almost
blood chilling. He had power of language
which put things with the vividness of
lightning flash. He went to lecture in Eng
land on temperance early in his career, and
the students of Oxford university hissed and
egged him, so unpopular was his cause in
the land of porter and brown stout
Once after signing the pledge he relapsed,
but only for short time. An English
writer says it is mainly to John B. Cough
that the United States owes it's comparative
freedom from drunkenness. He lectured
over forty years. ana never overcame his
stage fright. He always wanted to run
away the first moment when he faced an
audience. This feeling grew on him
Of late years. He never wrote out
lecture or made note of his speeches
beforehand. A neighbor of his told me
last fall that Cough was poor man. His
charity was as large as his earnings. He
had beautiful country home near here
He was much beloved by his neighbors The
principal treasure of his home was very
fine collection of the art works of George.
Cruikshank, the teetolalist painter and
friend of Cough. Among those whom
Coughs bounty supported in recent years
we're the widow and children of Mr.. STRAIT
ton. the good Quaker who reclaimed him
from i1ebriety 1t is good to leave such
record as his behind one.
ELIZA ARcHAAD.