Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1897-12-27
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THE DRUNkARD's SERMON.
An Usexpscssd Rsspooss TO Z Request That
He Pays Tor His Drink with Speech.

(From the New Orleans Picayune)
1t was growing late. The tide Of hui
mainly that earlier in the evening had
ebbed and flowed through the streets
of the great city had swept onward,
leaving the strange and almost appal-
ling sense of desolation that comes
when the noises of the town are
hushed. The electric lights fiared un-
noticed on the corners: the street cars
passed at further Intervals; now and
then a night worker hurried by, his
footsteps ringing out loud and clear in
the stiffness. In front of saloon
whose lights shone out bright and
rudy across the pavement stood a
tramp. unshorn. ragged, dirty, disgust
ing. He watched with envious eyes
the men who passed in and out through
the swinging doors, and then he turned
his eyes toward two young fellows in
evening dress who We're coming down
the street toward him. They had been
drinking deeply. and they stopped beA
fore the saloon door and looked curl
ously at him.
by Jove," said one, think of hav-
ing thirst like that, and not the price
Of an extinguisher in your pocket!
Beats old Tantalus all to pieces, Ell?
Liquor liquor. everywhere, and not a
drop to drink
He ran his hand in his pocket and
proffered the tramp dime. but before
it could be accepted the other young
fellow interposed.
Say, he said let's do the good
- al, n,<1
drink
The other hilariously consented, and
the tramp slouched into the saloon at
the heels of the two gilded youths. The
harkeeper set before them glasses and
liquors, and with a hand that shook
the tramp poured out a trimming glass
and raised it to his lips.
stop" cried Que of the young men
drunkenly, make us a speech. 1t is
poor liquor that doesn't unloosen
mans tongue
The tramp hastily swallowed down
the drink. and as the rich liquor
coursed through his blood he straight
ened himself and stood before them
with a grace and dignity that all his
rags and dirt could not obscure
night at you and at myself. and it
seems to me l look upon the picture of
my lost manhood. This bloated face
was once as young and handsome as
yours. This shambling figure once
walked as proudly as yours, a man in
world of men. l, too, once had home,
and friends and position. l had a vile
as beautiful as an artists dream. and
l dropped the priceless pearl of her
honor and respect in the wide cup. and
CleOpatra-like. saw it dissolve, and
quaffed it down in the trimming
draught. l had children as sweet and
lovely as the flowers of spring, and l
saw them fade and die under the
blighting curse of drunkard father.
l had a home where love lit the flame
upon the altar and ministered before
it. and l put out the holy fire, and
darkness and desolation reigned in it's
stead. / had aspirations and am
bilious that scared as high as the
morning star. and l broke and bruised
their beautiful wings. and. at last,
stran2led them that l might be tor
tured with their cries no more. Today
l am husband without a wife, a
father without child, a tramp with
no home to call his own, a man in
whom every good impulse is dead. All,
all swallowed up in the maelstrom of
drink"
The tramp ceased speaking. The
glass fell from his nerveless fingers
and shivered into thousand frag-
ments on the floor. The swinging
doors pushed open and shut to again,
and when the little group about the
bar looked up the tramp was gone.