Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1889-08-23

uiAtse1I. II ne cOuld stop ne Woulu'
He knows his course is bringing ruin
would stop if he could. He cannot.
Perhaps he could three months or a
year ago; not now. Just ask him to stop
for month He cannot; he knows he
cannot. SO he does not try. l had a
friend who for fifteen years was going
down under this evil habit. He had
large means. He had given thousands
of dollars to Bible societies and reform
atory institutions of all sorts. He was
very genial and very generous and very
lovable, and whenever he talked about
this evil habit he would say, Il can stop
any time" But he kept going on, 60
ing on, down. down, down. His family
would say, Il wish You would stop.
"Whv," he would reply, Il can stop any
time if want to-" After while he had
delirium tremens; he had it twice; and
yet after that he said, Il could stop at
any time if l wanted to-" He is dead
And yet among his last utterances was,
II can stop at any time" He did not
stop it, because he could stop it. Oh,
there is a point in inebriation beyond
which, if man goes, he cannot stop!
One of these victims said to q Chris
tian man, Sir, if l were told that
couldn't get drink until tomorrow
night unless had all my fingers cut off,
l would say. Bring the Ratchet and cut
them off now.'" l have dear friend in
Philadelphia, whose nephew came to
about his evil habit, said,r" Uncle, can't
give it up. If there stood a cannon,
and it was loaded, and a glass Of wine
sat on the mouth of that cannon, and 1
knew that you would fire it off just as I
came up and took the glass, would
start, for must have it." Oh, it is sad
thing for man to wake up in this life
and feel that he is captive. He says:
Il could have got rid of this once, but
can't now. might have lived an hon
orable life and died Christian death;
but there is no hope now; there is no
escape for me. Dead, but not buried.
l am walking corpse. 1 am an APP
partition of what ] once was. [ am
Gagged immortal, beating against the
wires of my cage in this direction and
in that direction; beating against the
cage until there is blood on the wires
and blood upon my soul, yet not able to
get out Destroyed, without remedy"
Il go further, and say that the in
ebrate suffers from the loss of his use
fulness. Do you not recognize the fact
that many OF those who are now cap
tives of strong drink only little while
ago were foremost in the churches and
in reformatory institutions? Doyou not
know that sometimes they knelt in the
family circle? DO you not know that
they prayed in public, and some of them
carried around the holy wine on sacra-
mental days? Oh, yes, they stood in the
very front rank. but they gradually fell
away. And now what do you suppose is
the feeling of such q man as that, when
he thinks of his dishonored VOWS and
the 1lShnnOraH !,
thinks Of what he might have been and
of what he is now? Do such men laugh
and seem very merry? All, there is,
down in the depths of their soul, very
heavy weight. Do not wonder that they
sometimes see strange things, and act
very roughly in the household. You
would not blame them at all if you
knew what they suffer. Do not tell such
as that there is no future punishment.
DO not tell him there is no such place
as hell. He knows there is. He is there
now!
[ go on, and say that the inebriate
suffers from the loss of physical health.
The older men in the congregation may
remember that some years ago Dr. Sewell
went through this country and electrified
the people by his lectures, in which he
showed the affects Of alcohol on the hui
man stomach. He had seven or eight
diagrams by which he showed the devas-
tatlon of strong drink upon the physi-
cal system. There We're thousands of
people that turned back from that ulcer
Gus sketch swearing eternal abstinence
from everything that could intoxicate.
God only knows what the drunkald
suffers. Pain files on every nerve, and
travels every muscle, and gnaws every
bone, and burns with every flame, and
stlngs with every poison, and pulls at
him with every torture. What reptiles
crawl over his creeping limbs! What
tends stand by his midnight pillow!
What groans tear his ear! What horrors
shiver through his soul! Talk of the
rack, talk OF the Inquisition, talk of the
funeral pyre, talk Of the crushing Jug
gernaut-he feels them all at once.
Have you ever been in the ward of the
hospital where these inebriates are
dying, the stencil Of their wounds driv-
ing back the attendants, their voices
sounding through the night? The
keeper comes up and says, Hush. now,
be still. Stop making all this noise!"
But it is etfectual only for amoment, for
as soon as the keeper is gone, they
begin again: "Oh, God! oh, God! Heln!
help! Rum! Give me rum! Help! Take
them off me! Take them off me! Take
them off me! Oh, God!" And then they
shrek, and they rave, and they pluck
out their hair by handsful, and bite their
nails into the quick, and then they
groan, and they shrek, and they bias
pheme, and they ask the keepers to kill
them; Stab me. Smother me. strangle
me. Take the devils off mel" Oh, it is
no fancy sketch. That thing is going
on in hospitals, aye, it is going on in
some of the finest residences of every
/ neighborhood on this continent It
went on last night while you slept, and
tell you further that this is going to
De the death that some of you will die.
know it. see it coming.
Again: the inebrate suffers through
the loss of his home. 1 do not care how
much ,1 he loves his wife and children. if
this passion for strong drink has mas
tered him, he will do the most outra-
geous things, and if he could not get
drink in any other way, he would sell
his family into eternal bondage. How
many homes have been broken up in
that way. no one but God knows.
Oh: is there anything that will SO de-
stroy man for this life and damn him
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