Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1896-09-21
The RumseIlcr's Equivalent.
BY JOSEPH CROSS.

The honest law of traffic, known and
unquestioned by all men, demands that
in all the exchanges of trade mutual
benefits shall be conferred The benefits
that come to the rumseller from his
devilish traffic show themselves in a
splendid home adorned with all that
money can procure. His wife and chill
dren are clothed in elegant attire and
move i'll an atmosphere laden with
luxury and pride But look, my friends
What are the benefits that come to the
man who is the other party to the
traffic that passes over the rumseller's
bar? Does that man get health and
happiness, social and moral improve
ment for the dimes he pours into the
rumseiier's till? Does the traffic carry
fertility to his farm, prosperity to his
business or comfort to his family?
Can he boast that out of his patronage
of the spirit vender he has a better
credit, a larger custom, a longer bank
account?
Ask the drunkard and he will answer
in Sroans that his returns have come
in commercial ruin, social infamy and
moral degradation. Look to his habi-
tation and the answer will come in
fallen chimneys and rag stuffed Win
doWs. Ask his children and their an
sWer comes in Il moan from tattcrcd
garments and haggard faces. Ask the
wife with her calloused hands and
care-Worn visage, what has the rum
seller done for her? He has taken her
last bed while his wife rests at night
upon couch of down; he has taken
her last gown, while the finest fabrics
of the worlds loom are ready for the
rumseller's wife; he has taken her last
loaf, while the rumsellers's table groans
with the choicest products of forest.
field and stream; and, as if this were
not enough at last he robs her of the
heart of her husband, clouds in the
blackneSS of darkness the sky that was
once so sunny, and makes a hell of that
home that was once paradise to her
Go to her Wretched hOvel at midnight
and behold her through the crevices of
wall or the broken panes of the Win
dow through which the blasts Of
December howl the requiem of all her
hopes. Why does she sit there SHY
ring over the last half-consumed stick
of fuel? She Weops and signs. tears
hat would have been smiles and sighs
that would have been songs had not
he accused traffic invaded her homo
Why does she sit there in that joyless
solitude? only to wait for the drunk
rd's return. The devoted wife cannot
forget the past, though he who once
had the heart and soul of a man now
reels into her cabin a savage. a tiger
1 putrid mass of disease, a loathsornr
living death.
Who has wrought this trans foTma-
ton? Who has effaced Gods IMAGE
md turned the husband into a fury
The father into a fend? This is the
mad catalogue of woes the rumscller
has given for the drunkard's money.
Though coined into tears and anguish
and loneliness and desolation and
despair in the life of the drunlard's
wife, the drunkard's money flashes in
he rumseller's diamonds, floats in per
TUNED clouds from the rumseller's
'iGar, sloWs in costly pictures upon the
'umseller's Wals.and glints and CLEANS
IN all the appointments of the rum
sellers home.
Oh, moderate drinker. take this pic
urc of plain, unvarnishcd fact home.
. your heart this night If your home
still your own. if your children still
nave the laugh and the prattIe that
give you joy, if you still can surround
aer whom you love with those attcn-
lions that shows you love her oh
beg you TO remember what a trans
ormation can be wrought in your life
md home if you continue to be a party
IN the traffic that goes on over the
soil g,,fe