Chapter III: Crusade in Larger Towns (3)

The gospel wave of temperance had cleared many of the villages of Ohio of rum, before the larger towns engaged in the movement. The work in the cities was undertaken with many misgivings. The saloons were so numerous, and the foreign population so large, and because of appetite, or interest so identified with the liquor business, that many worthy Christian people advised against saloon visitation. A mob and bloodshed might be the result.

But in Columbus, Ohio, the women met daily to counsel with each other, and to pray. And on the 3d of March, while at prayer, in the First Presbyterian Church, the baptism of the Holy Spirit came down upon them, and fifty women, consecrated to God and His work, rose from their knees and marched forth from the church to the saloons. Not, however, till they set the great bell, hanging in the steeple, to ringing.

The tolling of the bell attracted the attention of the people, and the news that the women had begun a Crusade against rum, spread like a flash, and in a few moments vast crowds of people were following them.

After visiting the principal hotels and saloons, they returned to the church, and a rousing prayer-meeting followed. Many who had not been accustomed to hear the gospel, were there to listen to the songs and prayers.

The next day the number of Crusaders had increased to three hundred, and there was great enthusiasm among the better class of people. As the women slowly filed out of the Presbyterian Church, many of the church-bells were rung. Thousands of people lined the streets, and many a “_God bless you_” followed them. But the German beer-dealers were very angry, and were determined to break the matter up, or turn it to ridicule, if possible.

One saloon-keeper had provided a brass band, and when the ladies appeared before his saloon, the band struck up, “Shoo, fly, don’t bother me,” and many of the drunken roughs joined, with inharmonious voices. But the ladies, not the least disconcerted, sang one of their sweet gospel songs; and many a tear was brushed away from manly cheeks, as amid the jargon they lifted their gentle voices to God in supplication for these wretched lost ones, who gloried in their shame. The band, however, changed to “Home, sweet home,” and they were followed by laughter and jeers, as they moved away.

The saloon-keepers rallied their forces. Their wretched victims, crawled out of their dens, to join in the hooting and howling with which they greeted the purest and best women of the city, and mock prayer-meetings were held, after which beer was freely dispensed, without pay. It was evident that Satan’s kingdom was stirred, and a strong stand would be made against the Crusaders.

Passing through Columbus, about this time, I caught a little of the spirit of the movement, and heard many interesting facts.

A Boston gentleman, who boarded the train at Columbus, but who looked back wistfully as we moved out of the city, told me that he went there prejudiced against the whole movement. He could not reconcile it with his ideas of social propriety, or womanly delicacy. But curiosity led him to their meetings, and he had followed them, day after day, through the streets, till all his prejudices were gone. It had given him a new view of Christianity, as an aggressive power against sin. He never had been so impressed with gospel truth in all his life, as in these meetings held in the streets and saloons. The solemnity of the judgment day rested down upon the masses of the people: others acted as if possessed with devils.

It was an awfully solemn sight, to see arrayed on the one side, the best and truest Christian women of the city, with earnest, solemn faces bending in prayer, and appealing in gentle, eloquent words to God, in behalf of those who reviled them, and who were ruining their homes and their city; while, on the other side, men of avarice leered at them from behind their counters, and the bleared and bloated victims of rum, with the leprosy of sin written all over their faces, mocked at the truths which alone could save them from a drunkard’s grave and a drunkard’s hell.

“With all my prejudices against women speaking and praying,” said he, “it didn’t take me long to determine which side I would take. I have stayed a week here, since getting through with business, to enjoy the Crusade, and marvel at the wonderful works of God. _Thank God for the Crusade!_” he added, reverently.

A German, who had listened with unconcealed interest, now broke in upon the conversation.

“You b’lieves in dem Crusaders? I dinks dem vimins has besser be at home mit der chil’ren. I has von goot frien’ in Columbus, and dese vimins spile hees pisness entirely already. Mine frien’ is von nice man, has much riches already, and von fine house and carriage, and everyding so nice. But dese vimins come so much singin’ and brayin’, and so much foolishness, that he loses much money already, and dey most set him crazy mit der brayin’.”

“What business is your friend in?” I inquired.

“He keeps von nice lager peer saloon.”

“How is it that he loses money? The women don’t take it.”

“He give away so much peer already to get the peoples to come dere and drink, so that the vimins will be ’fraid, and go way purty soon.”

“The women don’t want him to give away his beer.”

“Well, dey rob him; dey trive the people from der schop.”

“How many horses and drays were sold, and how many women and children did he rob, that he might buy a carriage?”

He took the hint immediately, and spoke up with some spirit--

“Dat is dere pisness. He dakes gare of hees own wife and chil’ren.”

“And these women are taking care of their business and their families, by breaking up his trade.”

“Dis is von strange countre--I never vonce see vimins do zat in Schermany. Zis is no free countre any more. Good-day, madame, I goes into de schmoking-car.”

It was very evident that the mass of ladies and gentlemen near us were in sympathy with the Crusaders, from the undisguised pleasure they took in the hasty withdrawal of the knight of the beer mug. I saw his face no more.

On the 20th of March two or three hundred of the women of Columbus, marched in a procession to the State Capitol, and held a meeting in the rotunda.

The members of both houses left their seats, and stood reverently, with uncovered heads, during this meeting. The women were preparing for a struggle that they foresaw would come, and they went to their work boldly. A bill was introduced in the legislature to protect the sale of ale and beer.

The women met it with counter-petitions, and mass-meetings. Delegations came from all the neighboring towns, and the capitol building was crowded during every session with the friends and enemies of temperance. It was a hand-to-hand fight with the rum power, and the women gained the victory.

On the 18th of April they had the satisfaction, after the midnight hour, of seeing the legislature adjourn without doing anything in the interest of rum.

Columbus contains a large foreign element, and the work was, therefore, the more difficult and dangerous: the men hooted, blasphemed, and even spit upon the kneeling women. While the women were at prayer, before a saloon, one day, a German shouldered a keg of beer, and marched through the prayer-circle, and the men and boys set up an unearthly shouting and screaming. But good results followed: several saloons closed out business, and liquors of all kinds were banished from the Union Depot; many men reformed, and many citizens signed the pledge, among them James G. Bull, mayor of the city. At a State dinner, soon after, where every luxury was provided, wine was banished; such was the advance made in public sentiment. A State dinner without wine would not have been thought possible before the Crusade. And so the women work on, looking for the time when complete victory shall crown their efforts.

VAN WERT, OHIO.

The work began about the 10th of March, 1874.

The following officers were chosen: President, Mother Webster; Vice-Presidents, Mrs. Elcock, Mrs. Hines, Mrs. Kennedy, Mrs. Sevinford, Mrs. Richey; Secretary, Mrs. M. J. McFadden; Executive Committee, Mrs. M. M. Minger, Mrs. M. Harnly.

The Spirit of the Lord seemed to move upon the hearts of the women. A meeting was called to be held at the M. E. Church. I doubt whether any one had any definite plan in view.

Mrs. Dr. Hines (one of the faithful workers), in relating her experience of those days, says: “I heard of the meeting, felt quite undecided about going; but I felt a restlessness, and could not be satisfied to stay at home. I took my seat in the back part of the church, thinking I would not say a word. Very soon some one called out, ‘There is Mrs. Hines: let us hear what she thinks of this movement;’ and then, without a moment’s hesitation, I said, ‘I thought the work would be a success, that God was about to answer the prayers of those crushed women and children, who had felt the power of the demon drink so long, through those that should have been their protectors; and from that day to this the work of the Crusade has been dear to my heart.’ Another says:

“As for myself, I remember well when I first heard the work talked off. I thought if it ever came here, I would do all that I could, _quietly_, so that it would not be noticed; but firmly determined in my own mind that I never would go into a saloon to pray, nor go out upon the streets, under any circumstances, or appear in public, but would be a silent worker. But nothing could make me believe that the Crusade was not the direct power of God upon the hearts of His children. The work was inaugurated at that first meeting I spoke of, and almost before I had time to think, I was addressing an audience of hundreds. God gave me power, and for a year, with others, I went to different places in the country helping to defeat _license_. Ohio gained this victory through the Crusade.

“Although of a very delicate constitution, I, with my sisters, went through mud and slush, standing or kneeling in the snow, going to meetings night after night, visiting saloons in the daytime, and through it all, and all the opposition, God preserved us by His mighty power, and to His name be all the glory. After a while the number thinned, until but the faithful few remained. Our prayer-meetings have been kept up until the commencement of the reformed men’s movement this spring.

“Our aged President, Mother Webster, was always a power in the Crusade, faithful to the last.

“During the first week of the work in Van Wert, one saloon-keeper, a German, who had always been accustomed to drink beer, refused the ladies admittance, while his wife made sport, and laughed mockingly at the ladies. But one morning, when the band stopped at his door, he admitted them, and told the ladies he had sold his last drop. Then there was such a joyful hand-shaking, and a prayer-meeting of thanksgiving.

“Another German, who was poor and had a family of interesting children, was very much opposed to the ladies’ visits. For some time they were refused admittance, and prayers were offered in German and English. About a week afterward, he disposed of his liquors, put out his white flag, and started to meet the ladies, telling them he had sold his last drop of liquor. It was a sacrifice, for he was dependent upon his daily labor for the support of his family.” We are indebted to Mrs. M. Harnly and Mrs. Elcock for the above facts.

The contest, with various successes, continued until the 6th of March, when a decided victory was gained at the municipal election. The ladies worked and prayed, and many of the temperance men were energetic and persistent. The issue was squarely made, “whiskey or no whiskey.” The temperance candidates won a decided victory. When the result of the election became known, the bells rang out a joyous peal, and the new mayor-elect, Mr. T. S. Gilliland, rolled out a barrel of apples that were in his office as a temperance treat. A prohibitory ordinance was passed, and the saloons were closed.

First Assistant Corresponding Secretary Woman’s National Christian Temperance Union.]

CINCINNATI, OHIO.

There was much prayerful interest in Cincinnati. Many of the best women of the church, bending low at the dear Christ’s feet, were asking: “What wilt thou have me to do?”

The difficulties in the way seemed more formidable for saloon work there than at any point in the State, or perhaps in the country. But these consecrated women were ready to follow the Master wherever He led.

Cincinnati was a great manufacturing centre. The annual trade in spirituous and malt liquors amounted to over $33,000,000, and there was immense capital invested in massive buildings and machinery.

One-third of the population of the city were Germans, accustomed to beer-drinking, which tended to make the traffic respectable.

Any interference with the trade was regarded as an attack upon their personal liberties. Many of them were ignorant bigots or infidels, who were ready, on any pretext, to cry out against the Bible and Puritanism, and many of them belonged to the criminal classes, as the police records will show.

To meet this class in the saloons and beer-gardens, when the city council was made up largely of men interested in the traffic, and the mayor of the city was ready to do the bidding of the liquor oligarchy, was a fearful risk. But Christ led the way and gave the courage.

The first saloon visited was a fashionable resort, called the “Custom House,” next door to the Merchants’ Exchange. The house was well patronized by first-class drinkers.

The time chosen was the lunch hour, when many of this class were lingering over their cups.

The women, unheralded, were in the saloon before any of them had time to escape. In a moment an immense crowd was surging about the door, and escape was impossible. A prayer-meeting was held, which lasted about half an hour.

The proprietor, affecting indifference, invited them to “come again,” an invitation which they accepted; but when they visited that saloon again it was like “a banquet hall deserted:” the merchants and fashionable drinkers were careful not to be caught there again.

The trade began to be interfered with, which aroused bitter opposition, and the saloons were closed against them.

The Esplanade, a large, paved square in the heart of the business part of the city, and the market-places, became praying-stations, and many a season of prayer was held on the curbstones opposite saloons.

A CRUSADE DOG

A lady in one of the bands had a large Newfoundland dog, that always accompanied her.

He seemed to know their business. He would walk before them with stately mien, till he came to a saloon, and then stop and turn around, as much as to say: “Here is work for you.” He would walk back and forth before the saloon while they sang; but as soon as they knelt to pray he would go and set himself down on his haunches beside the woman who lead in prayer, no matter if she were a stranger, and reverently maintain his position till the prayer was ended. Then he would start briskly off to look for another saloon.

It is said that he showed a decided preference for only _one_ prayer at each saloon. Perhaps he knew that there were nearly three thousand in that great city, and feared that they would not make the rounds, unless he hurried them.

A German saloon-keeper tried to set his dog on one of the bands, (not this one,) but the poor brute had more sense, and politeness, and humanity, than his master, and wouldn’t even bark, but hung his head in shame.

One day the crowd about the Esplanade was very large and threatening. Every foot of space was occupied, and all the streets approaching it were filled. But the ladies had advertised a meeting there, and they went forth, in the name of Christ, to face the howling mob.

They marched right on, two and two, as though no crowd menaced them. Many temperance men, and order-loving citizens, were there mingling with the crowd, determined to prevent, if possible, a riot. Mrs. Leavitt led the band. The crowd parted as they approached. A scissors-grinder had been hired by the rum party, for twenty-five dollars, to push his cart through the crowd, ringing his bells. He undertook the job, but his cart was broken into a thousand pieces, and he was arrested and marched off to jail, and subsequently fined fifty dollars. So his enterprise did not pay. Mrs. Leavitt gave the following graphic account of the beginning of the _Crusade_, at one of the mass-meetings held in connection with the annual meeting of the National Union at Newark, which was reported by Miss M. E. Winslow for _The Morning_, from which we copy:

“People at the East have little idea of what the Crusade really was. One of our local papers described its opening in these terms: ‘Hell on earth! The devil woke up! The women on their knees!’ I always knew that liquor was an awful thing, but I felt no responsibility about it, and when I first heard of the Crusading in Hillsboro’ and Washington Court-House, I felt in my heart, though I did not say so, that it was a prostitution of prayer. But there came to _that city of 3,000 saloons_, (open twenty-four hours of every day, and seven days of every week, with an average of 15,000 men pouring out death by the glass all the time,) a call for the women to meet and consider the subject in a certain church. I went to my room and asked the Lord what I should do. It was a short prayer, for in ten minutes I was at the corner with my hat on, on my way.

“The church was fuller than I had ever known it, women, old and young, rich and poor, praying and sobbing; and such prayers I had never heard. In an hour or two about eighty of us started--I hardly know how we did it--for one of the most fashionable saloons. The wealth represented by those eighty women being over $3,000,000. We walked two by two; some men blessed us as we passed, and some cursed. We went into the ‘sample-room,’ and asked permission for a moment of prayer, which was granted. You can imagine the praying we did, as we agonized that Jesus Christ would come and convert that rum-seller. Eight thousand people had gathered outside in a few moments. I had never opened my mouth to pray in public before, but God opened it now. We were there thirty or forty minutes, and then went out, where men pointed a finger of scorn at us, and every one thought we would be crushed. But we never felt so near heaven as we did then. We walked homeward, singing, ‘There is a Fountain filled with blood.’ Every day after that we met at nine o’clock, and went out in bands every hour, visiting different saloons, hundreds following us.

“One day I led a band of eighty, or a hundred to the Esplanade. The authorities had said this must be put down, and the mayor had privately given orders to the police to ‘be scarce where the women were.’ We did not know that; and after visiting fourteen saloons, we marched towards the Esplanade, where we found a dense mass of several thousand men awaiting us. I heard a man say, ‘JACK, A WOMAN’S FOOT SHAN’T TOUCH THE ESPLANADE TO-DAY!’ And I said, ‘Lord, give us the Esplanade.’ One great brutal-looking fellow stood in my way, debauched and degraded, yet with a look which told there was a heart somewhere. I took it for granted this was Jack. Bless God for woman’s intuition. I walked right up to him and said, ‘Jack!’ He started as if he wondered how I knew his name. ‘Jack, we are a band of broken-hearted mothers and wives, weeping and praying because you are all going to hell as fast as you can go. We want to pray here, right by this fountain, and I want you to make way for us and keep the men still till we get through our service.’

“First he looked like thunder; then he looked foolish; then I smiled sweetly at him (always smile at a man if you want him to do what he don’t want to), and he said, with a fearful oath, ‘I’ll do it. Make way for the Crusaders!’ and as he forced his great, brawny shoulders through the crowd, many voices shouted,

‘GOD BLESS THE CRUSADERS!’

I never asked the Lord for a policeman again. I’d rather have Jack. At last we stood close to that central fountain, which is the glory of Cincinnati, and sang, ‘JESUS the water of life will give,’ and I think there must have been joy among the angels of God at the chorus that rung through the square. Then we sang ‘Rock of Ages,’ and then I talked to the crowd. I forgot all about the liquor-saloons, and thought only of Jesus Christ upon the cross, I then called upon all who wanted to be saved and have us pray for them to kneel down, and 2,000 men, mostly reeking with the fumes of rum and tobacco, knelt there on the pavement seeking Christ, with tears and sobs.

“The next day our church was so full that we were obliged to have some place to hold an overflow meeting, and we telegraphed to Rev. Mr. Beecher (nephew of Henry Ward Beecher), that we must have his church in ten minutes. ‘Ten minutes, do you say? You shall have it in five,’ was the answer, and in ten minutes it was packed to overflowing; and afterward we held two daily meetings.”

One of the regular meeting-places of the praying bands of Cincinnati was a large, open market-house. Thousands gathered there daily. The place and all the avenues leading to it were usually well filled. But one day, as the band of women approached, they found an unusually vile and belligerent crowd. Butchers fresh from their stalls, with their sleeves rolled up, and their bloody aprons on, and their butcher knives in their hands; villanous-looking men with ugly pistols protruding from their pockets; and women debased by strong drink, uttering curses, were all huddled together, while just across the street a cannon had been placed so as to sweep the market-house if fired.

Altogether, the circumstances were anything but encouraging. But the women marched right on to their usual meeting-place in the centre of the open space and began to sing:

“There is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.”

The crowd was somewhat hushed into respectful silence by the singing. Mrs. Leavitt, who led the band that day, made the opening prayer. As they knelt on the paving stones she found herself facing the cannon, with a possibility of its being fired.

The crowd, that seemed to expect such an event, surged to either side so as to be well out of the way. But her consecration to God covered all that, and she remembers saying to herself: “If God wants to take me, as He did Elijah, to heaven in a chariot of fire, I would just as soon go that way as any other.” And she thought no more about the cannon or the vile men with knives and pistols, but prayed straight up to God for the perishing multitudes about her. And there came down upon the people such mighty awakening power, that the most desperate and unbelieving bowed their heads, and tears streamed down many a sin-scarred face.

And when the meeting was over, and they invited the people to come with them to the house of God, many followed them to the church, and hundreds remained to pray.

The placing of the cannon was a trick to frighten the women, but it did not succeed; and as they took no notice of it, the experiment was never repeated. The falling off in the liquor traffic in Cincinnati was very great; the trade in the leading houses in that business losing tens of thousands of dollars.

During the first six months of the Crusade, in the United States Revenue District in which Cincinnati is situated, the falling off In the revenue on liquor alone was about $3,000,000. And such was the interest, that one day the Merchants’ Exchange suspended, at least for a time, their business, to follow a few women who modestly and quietly sang and prayed on the Esplanade, or before the large saloons near by.

At first, the manufacturers and dealers laughed at the attempt of the women to call public attention to the traffic. But when they saw that this was effectually done, and that they were losing by thousands, they were wild with rage.

I overheard a conversation between two Cincinnati liquor-dealers at the time.

They were seated just behind me in a railroad car, so I could but choose to hear; and the curses they heaped upon Christian women were loud and deep; almost every word was emphasized with an oath.

“We must do something to stop this horrid thing, or we are ruined,” said one.

“The press has played the mischief with us,” exclaimed the other, “by publishing their movements. We must buy up the press. If they don’t stop writing about it, we must withdraw all our advertisements. Let this be a united thing with us, and they will soon have to look after their own bread and butter. These women have cut down my sales more than $20,000 this spring.”

“The mayor and city council ought to do something before the city is ruined. They are a pack of fools to let a few praying women ruin our business in this way.”

And then they talked and planned earnestly. The press was to be dealt with, the mayor brought to issue a proclamation against the women, forbidding their singing and praying on the streets, etc.

The mayor and city council were quite willing to serve the rum cause, as results show.

The ladies soon after were informed that they could no longer hold meetings in the streets, but must confine themselves to the public squares and market-places, unless a saloon-keeper chose to open his doors to them.

They obeyed orders, and went on with their work in the places designated. But one day, while one of the bands was quietly walking up the street, they were met and surrounded by a mob of the vilest men and women in the city. They were, no doubt, sent out by the dealers to intimidate the women, and received their reward in strong drink on their return.

The mayor also, accompanied by his private secretary, came to them and earnestly appealed to the ladies to quit their work and go home.

“I’ll not be responsible for your safety unless you do. For God’s sake, ladies, desist.”

The ladies in turn appealed to him to disperse the mob. They were quiet, unoffending citizens, walking the streets, which was their right; and as for their lives, they relied on God, not on him. All the while this parley was going on, the vile drunken mob was hooting and howling.

No attempt was made to disperse them. But the mayor was exceedingly annoyed with the violence and obscenity of a German woman near him, and turning upon her he commanded silence. “Shame! shame! such indecency.” But the words were scarcely out of his mouth till she began cursing him, and the mob uttering a horrid yell rushed toward him. He raised his hand, waving them back; but they came on like a herd of wild cattle, pushing each other forward, whirling him like a top from the sidewalk into the gutter. His secretary ran like a frightened deer, and the mayor, as soon as he could gather up himself and find his hat, followed suit. They remembered Lot’s wife, and never looked behind them. Some of the women of the band had been knocked down; but they soon fell into line, and now that the mob was behind them, marched down into the heart of the city, singing,

“Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee,
Even though it be a cross,
That raiseth me.”

The insults offered to the ladies aroused a feeling of indignation, and an address was prepared, and a committee of gentlemen appointed to present it to the mayor. The reading of the paper brought on a discussion, in which the mayor said it would take all the police force within twenty-four square miles of the city to protect the ladies.

Dr. Payne--“Do we understand you to say that you are powerless in the hands of a mob?”

Mayor Johnson--“It would appear so from the practical experience of yesterday afternoon.”

Dr. Payne--“Then, sir, it is high time that the pulpit began to thunder, and that all good men should arise, and see that men are elected who will enforce the law.”

The committee then entered upon a defence of the rights of women to go upon the streets as they had been doing, notwithstanding the riotous crowds which surrounded them, and the disorders consequent thereon, which point the mayor met by saying, that he believed with Lincoln, that the blow should be aimed at the cause.

Dr. Payne--“Yes, but the cause is the liquor traffic, not these women.”

Dr. Taylor--“We only claim their rights, and if women cannot be protected by law, the result will be that neither can we, and the blow that strikes them, strikes us. If they be prosecuted for praying, so may I. The same mob spirit that attacked women yesterday, may attack citizens. If we cannot obtain protection, by addressing you, where shall we go?”

In the course of the conversation, the mayor said, that the whole Board of Police Commissioners were opposed to the women.

Immediately following this interview the mayor issued a proclamation, addressed: _To the ladies composing the Temperance League_; forbidding them to hold meetings on the streets, basing this action on an old sidewalk ordinance that had been a dead letter for years.

I quote again from Mrs. Leavitt’s speech.

“By this time there was such a falling off in the liquor trade that the mayor and common council, twenty-three of whose members were in the liquor trade, said the Crusade must be stopped; so they raked up an old sidewalk ordinance which said that no group of more than three should occupy the sidewalk at any one place and time. But we knew nothing of it, and we went to a saloon where we were denied admittance, so we knelt outside. The pavement was eighteen feet wide, of which we occupied about thirty inches. I was leader that day, and gave out, ‘Rock of Ages, cleft for me,’ when a policeman laid his hand on my shoulder, and said, ‘_Mrs. Leavitt, you are under arrest!_’ ‘All right,’ said I. ‘Let me hide myself in Thee.’ And then we prayed for that policeman, and for the others, and for the crowd. We tried the patience of that policeman a little, for our service lasted sixty minutes. Some shouted, some cried, but all were happy; and then we rose and walked in an orderly manner, two by two, about two miles, to the station-house. As soon as we got there we kneeled down and prayed again, and then they asked our names, nativity, and ages. They took mine first, and while they were taking the others, I thought may be the Lord had something for me to do there; so I went round to the cells and talked with the inmates. In one I found a boy of eighteen, who said, ‘I wouldn’t have my mother know I am here for all the world. I came in under an assumed name. Did you?’ So I visited every cell, and pointed every prisoner to Christ. I tried to guess a conundrum (I never guessed one in my life), and I will give it to you. ‘How is it that every one I spoke to was put in for drunkenness, and we forty-three women were brought there for trying to put it down?’ We expected to be sent to the work-house for thirty days; so presently the husband of one of our number came in, and asked in the most touching tones, ‘_What shall I do with the baby?_’ ‘Go home and feed him,’ said his wife, ‘I wouldn’t be got off for twenty babies.’ Then the mayor came in. You have heard of the man who drew the elephant in a lottery, and then didn’t know what to do with it. The mayor looked just like that man. At last, when we had stayed two hours, the common council excused us till Monday on parole. So we marched back to the church, and gave our report, and it seemed as though the roof would come off with the ring of the doxology that followed.

“On Monday morning we went to the police court, and while they were trying the prisoners for drunkenness, we who were arrested for trying to stop them from drinking went round, preached Christ, and got twenty signatures to our pledge. When our turn came they did not know what to do with us. We had put on all our best things, and though I say it, were FORTY-THREE OF THE PRETTIEST-LOOKING WOMEN YOU EVER SAW, and all just as happy as could be. Six of us were ministers’ wives, three wives of rich bankers, and all the rest of wealthy citizens. At last they told us we had been naughty, but they would forgive us this time if we wouldn’t do so any more. We went back to the church, and a few of us went out crusading.

“But we didn’t want to break the law, and just at this time the Crusade began to change its form from active crusading into steady, organized work; so we only went out in parties of three or four, and we have been doing this ever since.”

The city officers and the police force were in the interests of the liquor traffic, and the arrest of the ladies was a part of a well-concerted plan to break down the temperance work.

We must not omit to give the names of the forty-three women arrested and thrust into the common jail:

Mrs. Rev. S. K. Leavitt, Mrs. Rev. W. I. Fee, Mrs. Rev. C. H. Taylor, Mrs. D. H. Baldwin, Mrs. Charles Folger, Sarah Shipley, Mary Whitaker, Mrs. May A. French, Mrs. Olive Roseboom, Mrs. Lottie Oldrieve, Mrs. Lizzie R. Harvey, Mrs. A. F. Whiteman, Miss Ellen King, Mrs. S. E. Massey, Miss Kate M. Warden, Miss Helen Russell, Miss Susan Sutton, Miss Annie Nunn, Mrs. J. R. Squire, Mrs. Mary J. Montford, Mrs. Ellen Hewson, Mrs. Whitredge, Mrs. Rev. C. H. Payne, Mrs. Rev. A. McHugh, Mrs. Dr. Carter, Mrs. S. J. H. Elstner, Mary White, Mrs. Kate Traugh, Mrs. Maria Stevens, Mrs. A. V. Crum, Mrs. H. Robinson, Miss Lottie Nunn, Mrs. Lucy M. McKenzie, Mrs. May Francis, Miss May Talbot, Miss Jennie Forbes, Miss Mary Scott, Mrs. E. B. Dalton, Miss Eliza Hughes, Mrs. Frederick Hanbold, Mrs. Mary Warner, Mrs. E. H. Mance, Mrs. Wealthy Fisk.

Dr. Fowler, of Chicago, who happened to be in the city at the time, and went with them to the jail, at a mass-meeting said: “Although I do not belong to this city, I say as an old heathen said, ‘Whatever concerns mankind, concerns me.’ Not only the immortal forty-three, but every woman in the land went down into the streets yesterday, and was scoffed and jeered at by those who stood in the saloon doors. You are not alone. All the good people of the land say, ‘You are fighting our battle,’ and from 10,000 pulpits are going up prayers for those who have made one bright page on the records of the police courts. The day may come when you can sell that page for money, enough to buy all the saloons in the city.” (Applause.)

Stirring, eloquent speeches were also made by Dr. C. H. Payne, Mr. Rowland, Rev. S. K. Leavitt; and Mrs. Leavitt followed with a solemn, earnest appeal, that brought nearly all the men and women in the house to their feet.

There was a meeting of citizens of the first ward, and a protest was prepared and sent to the mayor and city council--a protest, strongly condemning their action and calling upon them to maintain law and order.

Nearly all the pulpits of Cincinnati thundered against the liquor traffic, a strong public sentiment was created, and the women have gone steadily on with their work from that day to this. A large number of meetings are sustained in various parts of the city, and at Walnut Hills; tens of thousands have signed the pledge, and it is no longer respectable to sell or drink intoxicating liquors in Cincinnati.

A large hall has been secured for head-quarters, where meetings are held daily, and their influence is felt throughout the entire city.

WHITE SHOES AND WHITE DRESSES.

One morning, during the Crusade, a drunkard’s wife called on Mrs. Leavitt. She carried a babe in her arms only six weeks old, and was pale and weak from sickness and fasting, and this was her pitiful story:

“My husband is drinking himself to death; he is lost to all humane feeling; our rent is unpaid, and we are liable to be put out into the street, and there is no food in the house for me and the children. He has a good trade, but his earnings all go into the saloon on the corner near us; he is becoming more and more brutal and abusive. We seem to be on the verge of ruin. How can I, feeble as I am, with a babe in my arms, earn bread for myself and children?”

“Why not have your husband converted?” questioned Mrs. Leavitt, as the drunkard’s wife finished her sad story.

“Oh, there is no hope of such a thing. He cares for nothing but rum.”

“I’ll come and see him this afternoon.”

“He’ll insult you.”

“No matter; my Saviour was insulted, and the servant is not above his Lord.”

That very afternoon Mrs. Leavitt called at the little tenement house. The husband was at work at his trade in a little back room, and one of the children was sent to tell him that a lady wished to see him. The child, however, soon returned with the message: “My pa says he won’t see any one.”

“You go back and tell your pa,” said Mrs. Leavitt, in her energetic way, “that a lady wishes to see him on very important business, and she must see him, if she has to stay till after supper.”

She knew there was nothing in the house to eat. A moment afterward a poor, bloated, besotted wreck of a man stood before her.

“What do you want?” he demanded, as he came shuffling into the room.

“Please be seated and look at this paper,” she answered, pointing to a vacant chair at the other end of the table at which she was sitting, and handing a printed pledge to him.

He read it slowly, and then, throwing it down upon the table, broke out violently:

“Do you think I’m a fool? I’ll drink when I please, and let it alone when I please. I’m not going to sign away my personal liberty.”

“Do you think you can stop drinking?”

“Yes: I could if I wanted to.”

“I think you’re a slave to the rum-shop down on the corner.”

“No!”

“Then you love the saloon-keeper’s daughter better than you do your own little girl.”

“No, I don’t, either.”

“When I came by the saloon-keeper’s house I saw his little girl coming down the steps, and she had on white shoes, and a white dress, and a blue sash. Your money helped to buy them. I come here, and your little girl, more beautiful than she, has on a faded, ragged dress, and her feet are bare.”

“That’s so, madam.”

“And you love the saloon-keeper’s wife better than you love your own wife.”

“Never; no, never!”

“When I came by the saloon-keeper’s house, I saw his wife come out with the little girl, and she was dressed in silks and laces, and a carriage awaited her. Your money helped to buy the silks and laces, and the horses and the carriage. I come here, and I find your wife in a faded calico gown, doing her own work: if she goes anywhere, she must walk.”

“You speak the truth, madam.”

“You love the saloon-keeper better than you love yourself. You say you can keep from drinking if you choose; but you helped the saloon-keeper to build himself a fine brick house, and you live in this poor, tumble-down old house yourself.”

“I never saw it in that light before.” Then, holding out his hand that shook like an aspen leaf, he continued: “You speak the truth, madam--I am a slave. Do you see that hand? I have a piece of work to finish, and I must have a mug of beer to steady my nerves, or I cannot do it; but to-morrow, if you’ll call, I’ll sign the pledge.”

“That’s a temptation of the devil; I did not ask you to sign the pledge. You are a slave, and cannot keep it. But I do want to tell you this: _There is One who can break your chains and set you free._”

“I want to be free.”

“Well, Christ can set you free, if you’ll submit to Him, and let Him break the chains of sin and appetite that binds you.”

“It’s been many a long year since I prayed.”

“No matter; the sooner you begin the better for you.”

He threw himself at once on his knees, and while Mrs. Leavitt prayed she heard him sobbing out the cry of his soul to God.

The wife followed Mrs. Leavitt in an earnest prayer. The words were simple and broken with sobs, but somehow they went straight up from her crushed heart to God, and the poor man began to cry in earnest for mercy.

“O God! break these chains that are burning into my soul! Pity me, and pity my wife and children, and break the chains that are dragging me down to hell. O God! be merciful to me, a sinner.” And thus out of the depths he cried to God, and He heard him and had compassion upon him, and broke every chain and lifted every burden; and he arose a free, redeemed man.

When he arose from his knees he said: “Now I will sign the pledge, and keep it.” And he did. A family altar was built, the comforts of life were soon secured--for he had a good trade--and two weeks after this scene, his two little girls came into the Sunday-school, with _white shoes, and white dresses, and blue sashes on_, as a token that his money no longer went into the saloon-keeper’s till.

But the lesson that should impress us most is, that this disciple, helped of God, devoted _less_ than two hours to this service of redeeming a family for time and for eternity. Go, thou, and do likewise! _The Master is waiting for you_ in many a desolate home. Go, speak in His name, and He will be with you, and help you.

WHAT A PICTURE DID.

The heading of _The Reform_, an illustrated tract paper, is composed of three pictures. The first represents a drunkard staggering home to his family. In his hand he holds a bottle; his wife, with her babe in her arms and her little boy clinging to her dress, is shrinking from him. Terror and fear are depicted upon the countenances of the three.

The second picture represents the same man, standing at a table, a woman holding out a pen to him with one hand, and with the other a paper upon which are seen the words, “Temperance Pledge.”

In the third picture we see the same man, well clothed, walking erect, with a cane in his hand, and leading a little boy up a flight of steps to a nice house, in the door of which stands the wife, with beaming smile upon her face, and hardly able to hold the baby, who is overjoyed at seeing the father.

A bundle of these papers was sent to one of the ladies in Cincinnati, who distributed them in the market, at the hospital and jail.

Two months afterwards she was stopped on the street by a German woman, who told her the following story:

“You shoost stop von minute vile I tells you vot is in mine heart. You come von day to mine stall in de market, you give mine old man a paper, and you gives me a paper.

“Ven I goes to mine home, mine children dey cries for dere dinner. I says, ‘You shoost keep still, and I vill give you von paper a vomans give me in de market.’ So dey spreads a paper on de floor, und dey kicks up dere heels, und dey looks hard at de pictures. Vile I gets mine dinner, dey visper. Mine leetle boy he says: ‘Dat is pap mid the bottle! dat leetle boy vot hides hind his mudder’s dress is me, ven I’m skeered at pappy, und de baby is Helwig, cause dat is shoost de vay he hides hind mudder’s ear when pappy’s drunk.’ Den dey say, ‘Mudder, vat dat voman do mit de table?’ I says, ‘De temperance voman vants de man to sign de pledge, and says he drinks no more beer or whiskey, den his wife and children be no more feared of him.’

“Dey looks hard at de picter, den dey vispers and dey say, ‘Mudder, will pappy look nice like de udder picter, would he sign de pledge?’

“And I says, ‘Yes, childrens, your fadder would look shoost like dat if he goes no more to saloons.’

“Mine old man den he comes in to his dinner. He loves his children ven he is sober. My children dey see he no drunk, so dey runs to him mid de papers, and dey say, ‘Pappy, that is you mid de bottle, and dot voman is mudder, and de baby wot hides hind his mudder’s ear is Helwig. Pappy, vont you go to de temperance voman’s mit de table, and sign de pledge, and den you will look shoost like dat nice man mit de cane, and Helwig he will look shoost like dis baby vot tries to jump out of his mudder’s arms and is so glad to see his pappy?’ Mine old man he gets so mad, and he says, ‘I eat no dinner, I hates de temperance, I hates de temperance,’ and my children dey cry, dey be so scared. My old man he slams de door, and he goes off. He comes home to supper and he say de first ting, ‘I hates de temperance, I hates de temperance,’ and he no speak to de children, and dey be so skeered.

“After supper mine old man he makes de children go to ped, and he smokes, and he scolds, and he gets so mad he no goes to de saloon, like he always does all his life mid me.

“Ven it vas bed-time mine old man he lay down his pipe and he says: ‘Old woman, I’s no been good to you; I gets drunk no more; I goes no more to saloons; mine heart is sick mit what mine children say. I loves mine wife, I loves mine children ven I gets no drunk.’ Den I put mine apron to mine eyes, and I cries, and mine old man he cries. Den we stand by de childer’s bed, and mine old man he kiss me, and he kiss de children, and he says, ‘Mine heart is so sick all de day mit vat de children says to me.’

“I tells you I loves dat leetle paper, mine heart is so glad dat you gives it to me. I folds it up shust so nice and I puts it mit a handkerchief round, and I puts it in mine under-drawer in mine bureau mit mine children’s tings what died.”

CLYDE, OHIO.

The women worked and prayed faithfully for five weeks. During the first two weeks, two saloons closed, one dealer disposing of his liquors, the other giving them up to the ladies to be emptied into the street. They were poured into the gutter amid great rejoicings, and the singing of the doxology.

While one of the women was pleading with Carroll, a saloon-keeper, she referred to the fact that her boys were becoming drunkards. “Oh!” said he, “I do not think I ever sold your boys any.” “But,” said the noble woman, with tearful emphasis, “you sell to somebody’s boys.”

One Saturday evening, as the ladies approached one of the most prominent saloons, the proprietor came out and informed them that they could not hold services in front of his house; that he would spill his last drop of blood before they should do it. He had his back yard and saloon full of help. The ladies immediately commenced their exercises, and he called his rabble out to hoot; a pail of cold water was splashed into the face of the one who was praying. She never broke a sentence, but said: “O Lord, we are now baptized for the work.” The effect was good, it was a most complete victory. All became quiet, and the saloon-keeper accompanied them to the church, and oh, such earnest prayers as were offered in the church for that man. Mass-meetings were held every Wednesday evening, and the pressure of public sentiment became so great, that the saloon-keepers closed for an indefinite time.

CEDARVILLE, OHIO.

In 1873, the ever-memorable time, in the history of the women Crusaders of Ohio, we in Cedarville were aroused to work by the call from our Father in heaven.

It seemed as though a few of the sisters here, were called out for the work, even before the sisters in Hillsboro’. We had our first meeting announced, and a speaker engaged, and had of ourselves determined to organize for work. But by a providence of God we were kept back to let the sisters at Hillsboro’ and Washington Court-House commence first.

January 2d, our first meeting was held, and we were fully equipped for visiting the saloons. We did not need to wait, and hold our prayer-meetings in the church; the Lord had prepared us before, in our homes, so we went at once to the saloons to hold prayer-meetings; we felt the Lord had made such a distinct call for us to go, that we had no fears: we knew that He would lead us. Our mouths were filled with song and prayer; our sympathies were awakened to such a degree, it seemed nothing on earth could have stopped us from going on in the path the Lord had laid out for us. Thanks be to the Lord for the faith He gave us.

We felt that we must do something; that if we did not, our homes would be made desolate, our hearts would be broken, our sons would all perish. The words, “What wilt thou have me do?” were spoken so plainly that we felt we _must_ do something to help the wretched souls out of their bondage. My husband being a zealous temperance man, was easily aroused to action; he sent for a lecturer, Dr. Watt: he came, and spoke earnestly for the cause; the next day we made our first visit to the saloons, through the snow and bitter cold, but we were not cold; we went early and late until all our saloons were closed.