Year: 1865




Reader, come with me, in imagination,
for short time; leave your business and
pleasure, your cares and perplexitics, aud
| will convey you, not to the gilded pala,
ces of dreomland, nor to fairy scene, but
to the drunkards home.


1t is a cold dreary night; the moon
and stars are obscured by dark, threaten
ing clouds; the wind means and sighs
through the leaAess trees, or howls and
whirls about the wretched hoyel, sound
ing like the wall of lost soul All
seems barren, bleak and desolate tonight,
for the dread storm-king of winter is
heard in all his power.


Come with me out into the street; first
down this gloomy lane, now through this
dark alley, and at length we pause before
low, wretched-looking hovcl, for it can
not be called house. The door stands
ajar, and the cold gusts of wind are CON
tinually blowing in.


Come, let us enter. Do not hesitate
you need not be afraid of meeting any of
your fashionable friends here; oh, no :
that would contaminate them neither
your pastor or family physician, for the
former is too busy preparing sensation
sermons, and it would degrade the latter
were he to write a prescription for the
poor drunkard.


Then let us enter fearlessly, without re-
straint There is no light, no fire the
money that would have furnished these
has been used to purchase the dreadful
poison that kills so many. The articles
of furniture are easily enumerated; hold
the lantern high and they can be taken in
at one glance.


A broken chair and a rusty stand
on one side of the room, in the centre is
pine table with the devil, in the shape
of whiskey bottle, standing on it, and at
the farther end is low, dirty, cot bed.


And yet the occupant Of this room was
reared in luxury, and once had fond par
ents who dotted on him wife who loved
and child who almost worshipped him.


Where are they powl All, all gone {!
Those fond parents went down in sor-
row to their graves long before their sine;
that loving wife died of broken heart,
caused by abuse and neglect; and that
gentle child died in the streets, one win
ter's night, from cold and hunger! And
now this loved son, companion and father
lies on the bed dead--frozen to death !!
while the bottle that has been the cause
of all this misery lies by his side


Can it be that this wrctched- locking
object was created in the image of God
that this was once the noblest of all his
works-man? Can it be that that with
cred, shrunken form was once buoyant
with health, and from those lips words of
burning eloquence once fell, the crea.
tions Of a mighty brain, of a grand intel
lect


Alas it is even So The health and
strength have been wasted those heaven
born gifts have all been thrown away, and
now we behold nothing but the dead bo-
dy of the victim, of him, the drunken
sot


Yes, here he lies dead His spirit has
gone to its long, last home, gone unpre-
pared and unloved and unblest No par
ents were here to bless him, no wife to
soothe his pillow, or no Child to cheer
him; nor was there any kind friend to
point him the way to heaven and ease the
pains Of death Alone and uncared for
he has gone forth to meet that God whom
he has so offended


Still does the world roll on, never ceas-
ing, never resting; stilldo the gay laugh
and men pursue their business and their
pleasures, as though there was in real life
no such pictures as | have painted and
still is the traffic of rum carried on in our
midst, and we make but little effort to re-
sist it.


You, who think my picture overdrawn
pause for while and look about you il
your own city. Youneed not go far from
home, and | assure you you will not long
look in vain.


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"A wag speaking of blind wood