The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1891-02-11
people in the city but never went near

people in the city but never went near
them.
I was winning the fight very well;
but ons morning I got up with that
awful feeling of restlessness that Is
called appetite for drink" i knew l
was to drink that day, yet l made a
struggle. remember would look at
my watch and think 'Now it is seven
o'clock, I'll not drink till half-past
seven" Then at half-past seven I
said: "Not till eight" and SO on through
the weary hours. Ispent the forenoon
walking up and down from Harlem
toward the Battery and back again.
hesitating at every saloon door. yet
passing every one, living desperately
half an hour at time. Such an ex-
penditure of nervous energy could have
but one ending; I knew it, but would
not yield.
1t was nearly noon. was walking
up Broadway and I heard band at
music coming down As it came near ]
stood on the edge of the sidewalk to
look and to listen. Back of the band
there was a long line Of splendid
carriages with flags and banners, and
in the carriages were well-dressed.
well-kept notwithstanding men. II
seemed some delegation of distinguished
visitors. What was it? The saloon
keeper of New York and Brooklyn out
for a holiday!
If you had been there you would have
seen nothing but the band and the car
riages and the men; but I could see
such sights as language fails to picture.
You know the way of industrial pro-
cessions is to carry samples OF their
handiwork in their parades, and the sa-
loon business is an industry" men say.
In this line there were no samples car
ried openly, but could SEQ chained to
the carriage wheels countless multi
tude of men, shrieking and struggling,
reeling, staggering, stumbling down
Broadway to celebrate the triumph OF
the drink.
Back Of these another multitude,
more pitiful-of women, sad-faced and
heavy-hearted, dragging on behind
with little wailing children clinging to
to their skirts or Juggling at their bar
rem breasts, starving, though it was a
holiday, and from there back the misery
of the pageant shaded on into the light
laughter of the tipping boys and the
thoughtless girls who laughed at
drunkenness and wondered at despair.
Farther than the eye could reach, the
long procession stretched away through
the great city, over the Harlem rivel
and was lost to sight in the plying
woods of Westchester County.
could see at every revolution of the
wheels the idol of some woman's hear
crushed beyond recognition. Broadway
seemed paved with the bodies OF the
hundred thousand men who died drunk
in America in the year. And the wheels
went crushing over their upturned face!
in the summer noon. could see in the
clothing that these men wore silver
threads torn from the heads of suffer
ing mothers, along with many coloret
threads drawn from the tresses of dis
spirited and broken-hearted wives.
| COuIu oCc NY own WllO uhiohS OhC AoA
lowers in the line. l could see my owl
children tfampled beneath the wheels
l thought things unutterable. Whel
the music came was about giving VI
the struggle-when l turned from tn
spectacle l felt had grown.
My body was erect, my lips com
pressed, my heart firm, and knew
would not drink that day; and then
there alone, though jostled by thou
sand men, made new resolve. NJ,
own children might live to be a spectacle
in such procession to the eyes Of othel
men. What should do? Wait till tn
juggernaut had passed over them, thel
gather up their mangled forms ant
carry them to their mother and say
''Here are the boys?"
The thought drove me mad, and
said: Never another instant Of wait
ing, but here and now join the men
be they called fanatics or philosophers
who have the bravery to cry aloud ant
spare not, and to lay their hands upol
the horses bits and stop the procession
though they be sneered at and thougl
they die for it."
That's the way l became Prohibi
tionist.-John G. Wooley, in Exchange