Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1908-04-14
Johns Letter.

We found part of an eighteen-y ar-old
Democrat containing something We had
written to one in reply to criticism
wherein he thought us unwise to desert
a party that was the real thing on the
temperance question, and to attach our.
self TO that weak, one-idea party known
as the Prohibition party. We smiled al
some of our sayings, and we wondered
If we are something of prophet, IL our
meat hasn't been locusts and wild
honey. Part of it is this, at your service
1.-THE prophecy is that the cry of the
drunkard's wife and little ones has al
ready entered the ear of the God of the
helpless and that he is not Indifferent to
their cry that he is already turning bis
face towards the place whence cometh
the cry, and that his own right arm is
about to bring salvation through a
means despised. It is no new thing, it
is no strange thing for Almighty Power
to make use of the weakest and the
most world-contemned instrument to
bring about the most glorious results
and infinite in their continuance. With
in the narrow limits of our own little
memory party sprang up-a disturbing
element in American politics-called the
Abolition party, that drew down upon
itself the sneers and the maledictions OF
the Scribes and the Pharisees, pulpit,
press and people. Well, God honored
that little, despised one with an in
ing in the hands that had been stretched
out in blessing, the broken letters of the
slave. But those broken letters were
| wet with the blood of nation, a guilty
nation. Shall we ever forget the woe
that was passing when those broken
letters fell? A repetition of certain
phase in Hebrew history-political
frogs, political lice, political flies-ver-
min swarming from the slums, the very
elements melting with fervent heat, ay,
the elements of human passion-skies
ablaze with the blood red lights of
tragedy. 1t was not in a stage-whisper
that the eternal Power spoke the irrev-
ocable words: Let my people go! 1t
came in the whirlwind of battle, the roll
of drum, the voice of cannon, the ring
of musketry, the thunder of the cap
tains and the shouting A small begin
ming but a mighty ending. A genera
ton has passed and the Republican
multitude that no man can number has
so far forgotten the lowliness of its
origin that it utterly despises the day of
small things. If our critic be the &C
credited mouthpiece of the "party" to
which he adheres, it holds in contempt
this weak young thing, 80 very like the
one from which it grew, in pluck, per-
sistence and principle. Its face is set
as though it would 60 to Jerusalem. 1t
will go. 1t will get there. 1t will not
be crucified unless more glorious results
would arise from the crucifxion. 1t
will 90 followed by the cry-like an
echo of evil-like the yelping of hounds,
Cruelty! Crucifyr We predict that if
this little one faces the sunrise and is
true to principle, the God of Total Abb
stinence will bless it with an everlasting
increase, as the sands on the seashore
for multitude, and crown it with an
everlasting success. When the party OF
our early choice has something more
substantial to offer than cordial SYM
pathy' we would be more than pleased
to visit it and note the improved ap-
pearance that clean shirt can give"
Well, it does look as though we might
make our visit and gain residence be-
fore election. But one must be nomi-
mated who has the courage of his con-
victions, says what he means and means
what he says-which his name it is Fer
nald
Through the kindness of Geo. z.
Bracket, editor, we receive regularly
each month the Maine Temperance
Record printed at Belfast. In it we find
this: Son Jan. LIST, 1905" declared the
Southern Star, near the close of the old
year, "the saloons will be marching
through Georgia to the tune of Dixie.
There will be new procession from At
lanta to the sea. but it will leave happy
homes instead of devastation in its wake.
"Bring the good old bugie, boysl
Wen have grand new song;
Sing 1t as we mean to sing 1t,
Eighty millions strong;
Sing 1t as We love to sing 1t,
While they march along;
Rum shop, are marching from Georgia!
Hurrah! Hurrahl They lead the jubileel
Hurrahl Hurrahi Our land will soon be free!
Hear the Dixie chorus from Atlanta to the sea,
While they are marching from Georgia
As we seem to be something of a
prophet and would like to keep our
hand in, we prophesy that prohibition
will break up the solid south in politics,
to the good of the nation.