Chapter IV: Part 4

And what other security have you for your children, or for yourselves? Yes, for yourselves. I knew a man who, a few years ago, was as temperate as any of you; was as respectable as any of you, as learned as any of you, and as useful in life as any of you; I have heard him from the sacred desk again and again; but by the same use of ardent spirits that most men justify and advocate, under the mistaken notion that they were beneficial to him, he has at last fallen the victim of intemperance. And this is not a solitary example. I had almost said, it is a common example. I could easily add to the number.

And now, what security have you for yourselves? You have none but in the course I have recommended. If it is necessary for the intemperate man to write on every vessel containing ardent spirits, "Taste not, touch not, handle not," and to brand them as full of the very wrath of God, it is also necessary for the temperate man to do so, to save himself from intemperance.

But the difficulty on this subject is to convince men of their individual danger; that intemperance stands at their own doors, and is knocking for an entrance into their own houses; that they and their children are the victims that he seeks.

But if the places of the present generation of drunkards are to be supplied, whence will the victims come but from your own children? And who knows but that the infant the mother is now dandling upon her knee, and pressing to her bosom, however lovely he may appear, however respectable and elevated she is, will be selected to be one of that degraded, and squalid, and filthy class that, in her old age, will walk the streets as houseless, hopeless, and abandoned drunkards? You have no security, no assurance.

But we are apt to think that the wretches whom we see and have described were always so; that they were out of miserable and degraded families; and that they are walking in the road in which they were born. But this is not so. Among the number may be found a large proportion who were as lovely in their infancy, as promising in their youth, and as useful in early life, as your own children, and have become drunkards--I repeat it, and never let it be forgotten--_have become drunkards by the temperate, moderate, and habitual use of ardent spirits, just as you use them now_. Were it not for this use of ardent spirits, we should not now hear of drunken senators and drunken magistrates; of drunken lawyers and drunken doctors; churches would not now be mourning over drunken ministers and drunken members; parents would not be weeping over drunken children, wives over drunken husbands, husbands over drunken wives, and angels over a drunken world.

Then cease. No longer use that which is the source of infinite mischief, without one redeeming benefit; which has entailed upon you, upon your children, and upon society, woes unnumbered and unutterable. Banish it from your houses: it can be done. You have only to will, and it is effected. Use it not at home. Let it never be found to pollute your dwellings. Give it not to your friends or to your workmen. Touch it not yourselves, and suffer not your children to touch it; and let it be a part of your morning and evening prayer, that you and your children may be saved from intemperance, as much as from famine, from sickness, and from death.

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Reader, have you perused this pamphlet; and are you still willing to drink, use, or sell this soul-destroying poison? If so--if you are willing to risk your own soul, disgrace your friends, and ruin your children by this fell destroyer, then go on; but remember, that to the drunkard is allotted the "blackness of darkness and despair for ever." But if not--if you feel the magnitude of the evil; if you are willing to do something to correct it, sit not down in hopeless silence, but arouse to action; "resist the devil, and he will flee from you;" not only banish it from your houses, but from your stores, your shops, your farms; give it not to your workmen; refuse to employ those who use it; invite, entreat, conjure your friends and neighbors to refrain wholly from the use of it; never forgetting that the day of final account is at hand; that what we do for Christ, and for the good of our fellow-men, must be done soon; and that those who sacrifice interest for the sake of conscience, and who are instrumental in turning men from their errors, shall not lose their reward.

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This address was originally delivered before a large public meeting in Lyme, New Hampshire, Jan. 8, 1827.

APPEAL TO YOUTH.

A TRACT FOR THE TIMES.

BY REV. AUSTIN DICKINSON.

To arrest a great moral evil, and elevate the general standard of character in a community, the influence of the young is all-important. _They_ can, if they please, put an end to the most demoralizing scourge that has ever invaded our country, and introduce a state of society far more pure and elevated than the world has yet seen.

Consider then, beloved youth, some of the numerous motives for abstaining from intoxicating liquor and other hurtful indulgences, and employing your time and faculties with a view to the highest improvement and usefulness.

The use of such liquor, as a beverage, _will do you no good_. It will not increase your property or credit: no merchant would deem a relish for it any recommendation for a clerk or partner in business. It will not invigorate your body or mind; for chemistry shows, that alcohol contains no more nutriment than fire or lightning. It will not increase the number of your respectable friends: no one, in his right mind, would esteem a brother or neighbor the more, or think his prospects the better, on account of his occasional use of intoxicating liquor. Nor will it in the least purify or elevate your affections, or help to fit you for the endearments of domestic life, or social intercourse; but on the contrary, Scripture and observation alike testify, that wine and its kindred indulgences "_take away the heart_." Why, then, should a rational being, capable of the purest happiness, and capable of blessing others by an example of temperance, indulge in a beverage in no respect useful to those in health, but the occasion of countless miseries!

But strict temperance has a direct influence on _the health and vigor of both mind and body_. The most eminent physicians bear uniform testimony to its propitious effect. And the Spirit of inspiration has recorded, _He that striveth for the mastery, is temperate in all things_. Many striking examples might be adduced. The mother of Samson, that prodigy of human strength, was instructed by an angel of God to preserve him from the slightest touch of "wine, or strong drink, or any unclean thing." And Luther, who burst the chains of half Europe, was as remarkable for temperance, as for great bodily and intellectual vigor. Sir Isaac Newton, also, while composing his Treatise on Light, a work requiring the greatest clearness of intellect, it is said, very scrupulously abstained from all stimulants. The immortal Edwards, too, repeatedly records his conviction and experience of the happy effect of strict temperance, both on mind and body. And recent reformations from moderate drinking have revealed numerous examples of renovated health and spirits in consequence of the change.

But not to multiply instances, let any youth, oppressed with heaviness of brain or dulness of intellect, judiciously try the experiment of _temperance in all things_, united with habitual activity, and he will be surprised at the happy effect.

Consider, again, that _in the purest state of morals, and the most elevated and refined circles, the use of intoxicating drink is now discountenanced, and regarded as unseemly_. Inspiration has declared, "It is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink." And who would not regard any of the truly noble, as lowering themselves by disparaging this sentiment? What clerical association, or what convention of philanthropists, would now be found "mingling strong drink?" What select band of students, hoping soon to officiate honorably at the altar of God, before the bench of justice, or in the chamber of affliction, would now call for brandy or wine? What circle of refined females would not feel themselves about as much degraded by familiarity with such indulgences, as by smoking, or profane language? Or what parent, inquiring for an eligible boarding-school, would think of asking, whether his son or daughter might there have the aid of such stimulus, or the example of its use? If, then, intoxicating liquor is thus disparaged in the most moral and intelligent circles, why should it not be universally abjured by individuals? Why should not the young, especially, of both sexes, keep themselves unspotted, and worthy of the most elevated society?

Consider, moreover, that if the habit of drinking be indulged, _it may be difficult, if not impossible, should you live, to break off in more advanced life_. Thus, even in this day of reform, there are individuals, calling themselves respectable, so accustomed to drink, or traffic in the poison, that all the remonstrances of philanthropists and friends, the wailings of the lost, the authority of Heaven, and the anathema of public sentiment combined, cannot now restrain them. Let the youth, then, who turns with shame from such examples of inconsistency, beware of a habit so hardening to the conscience, so deadening to the soul.

But, to increase your contempt for the habit of drinking, think how it especially prevails _among the most degraded portions of the community_. Inquire through the city, or village, for those who are so polluted as to be shut out from all decent society--so inured to vice that they cannot be looked upon but with utter disgust; learn their history, and you invariably find that the insidious glass has been their companion, their solace, and their counsellor. And should not dark suspicion and decided reprobation be stamped upon that which is thus associated with the lowest debasement and crime?

Such drink, in its very nature, has a perverting and debasing tendency--leading to foul speeches, foolish contracts, and every sensual indulgence. Those under its influence will say and do, what, in other circumstances, they would abhor: they will slander, reveal secrets, throw away property, offend modesty, profane sacred things, indulge the vilest passions, and cover themselves and friends with infamy. Hence the solemn caution, "Look not thou on the wine, when it giveth its color in the cup: at the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder: thine eyes shall behold strange women, and thy heart utter perverse things." Those who, by gaming or intrigue, rob others of their property, and those who allure "the simple" to ruin, it is said, fully understand its perverting influence. "Is it not a little one?" say they; and so the unwise are "caused to fall, by little and little."

"She urged him still to _fill another cup_;
* * * and in the dark, still night,
When God's unsleeping eye alone can see,
He went to her adulterous bed. At morn
I looked, and saw him not among the youths;
I heard his father mourn, his mother weep;
For none returned that went with her. The dead
Were in her house; her guests in depths of hell:
She wove the winding-sheet of souls, and laid
Them in the urn of everlasting death."

Such is ever the tendency of the insidious cup. For the unerring word declares, "Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging; and whosoever is deceived thereby _is not wise_." "They are out of the way through strong drink; they err in vision, they stumble in judgment."

Indeed, _the whole spirit of the Bible_, as well as uncorrupted taste, is in direct hostility to this indulgence. Its language in regard to all such stimulants to evil is, _Touch not, taste not, handle not_. And to such as glory in being above danger, it says, with emphasis, "We, then, that are strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the weak, and _not to please ourselves_."

He who hath declared, _Drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom of God_, cannot, surely, be expected to adopt, as heirs of his glory, any who, under all the light that has been shed on this subject, perseveringly resolve to sip the exhilarating glass for mere selfish pleasure, when they know that their example may probably lead others to endless ruin. Common sense, as well as humanity, revolts at the thought.

On the other hand, strict temperance is pleasing to the Most High. Hence, it is said of him who was honored to announce the Saviour's advent, "He shall be great in the sight of the Lord, and shall drink neither wine nor strong drink."

Moreover, the habit of strict temperance, being allied to other virtues, will secure for you the _respect and confidence of the best portions of the community_, as well as the approbation of God, and thus lead to your more extensive usefulness. The youth who promptly comes up to the pledge and practice of total abstinence, and persuades others to do so, gives evidence of decision and moral courage--gives evidence of an intellect predominating over selfish indulgence, and superior to the laugh of fools; and such is the man whom an intelligent community will delight to honor.

But you are to live, not merely for self-advancement, or happiness: consider, then, that _true patriotism and philanthropy rightfully demand_ your cordial support of the Temperance cause. A thick, fiery vapor, coming up from the pit, has been overspreading our whole land and blighting half its glory. Thousands, through the noxious influence of this vapor, have yearly sunk to that pit, to weep and lament for ever. Thousands more are groping their miserable way thither, who, but for this pestilence, might be among our happiest citizens. Still greater numbers, of near connections, are in consequence, covered with shame. Ah, who can say, he has had no relative infected by this plague? But Providence, in great mercy, has revealed the only effectual course for exterminating the plague--_total abstinence from all that can intoxicate_. And the adoption of this course, instead of involving any real sacrifice, might be an annual saving to the nation of _many millions of dollars_. What youth, then, who loves his country, will not cheerfully cooperate with the most respected of every profession in encouraging this course? Who does not see its certain efficacy, and the grandeur of the result?

Were a foreign despot, with his armies, now invading our country, every youthful bosom would swell with indignation. And will you not combine to arrest the more cruel despot, Intemperance, whose vessels are daily entering our ports, whose magazines of death are planted at the corners of our streets, and whose manufactories are like "the worm that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched?"

Were all who have, in the compass of a year, been found drunk in the land, assembled in one place, they would make a greater army than ever Bonaparte commanded. And yet, unless patriot hearts and hands interpose, myriads more, from generation to generation, coming on in the same track, will go down like these to the drunkard's grave.

Were all the thousands that annually descend to the drunkard's grave, cast out at once into an open field, their loathsome carcases would cover many acres of ground. And yet the _source_ of all this pollution and death is moderate drinking.

Were the thousands of distilleries and breweries, still at work day and night in the land, placed in one city or county, they would blacken all the surrounding heavens with their smoke. And could all the oaths, obscenities, and blasphemies they occasion every hour, be uttered in one voice, it would be more terrific than "seven thunders."

And are those armies of drunkards, that liquid fire, those carcases of the slain, those ever-burning manufactories, and those blasphemies in the ear of Heaven, less appalling, less stirring to patriotism, because scattered throughout the land? Shall there be no burst of indignation against this monster of despotism and wickedness, because he has _insidiously_ entered the country, instead of coming in by bold invasion? Shall he still deceive the nation, and pursue his ravages? Or shall he not, at once, be arrested, when it can be done without cost, and with infinite gain?

It must not be forgotten, that, in this country, every drunkard has equal power in the elective franchise with the most virtuous citizen. Nor must it be forgotten, that should the reform now cease, and intemperance again increase for the fifty years to come, in only the same ratio that it did for twenty years previous to the commencement of general reform in 1826, about one-third of our voters would be drunkards. What, then, would be the character of our beloved republic?

But should intemperance increase in that ratio for _eighty_ years, a _majority_ of our voters would be drunkards, and our population amount to several hundred millions. Who then could turn back the burning tide; or who could govern the maddening multitudes?

It is not a vain thing, then, that patriots have waked up to this subject. Their trumpet should now thrill through the land, and urge all the young to enlist, at once, on the side of virtue. These can, if they will, cause the river of abominations to be dried up.

But the subject of temperance has still another aspect, far more serious. It must be a solemn consideration to such as realize, in any measure, the worth of the soul and the necessity of its regeneration, that indulgence in the use of intoxicating drink, in this day of light, _may grieve the Holy Spirit_, whose presence alone can insure salvation. Indeed, to say nothing of the deadening influence of such liquor on the conscience, unless heaven and hell can mingle together, we cannot, surely, expect God to send _his_ Spirit to cooperate _with that_ which is peculiarly offensive to the most devoted and self-denying of his friends, and which Satan employs, more than any other agent, in fitting men for his service. For, "what communion hath light with darkness?"--"what concord hath Christ with Belial?" Beware, then, of the arch-deceiver, in this matter. "It is not a vain thing for you, because it is your life."

It is obvious that if such stimulants were wholly done away, _the Gospel would have far mightier sway_, and human nature generally assume a higher character. Pure moral stimulus would take the place of what is low, sensual, and selfish. Better health, better temper, higher intellect, and more generous benevolence would everywhere appear.

It is obvious, likewise, that Providence has great designs to be accomplished by the younger portions of this generation. Unto us are committed those oracles which declare, "Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth." And already do I see, in the silent kindling of unnumbered minds, in our Sabbath-schools and other institutions, the presage of unexampled good to the nations. Who, then, of the rising race, is so dead to generous feeling, so deaf to the voice of Providence, so blind to the beauty of moral excellence, that he will not now aspire to some course of worthy action? Let this motto, then, stand out like the sun in the firmament: HE THAT STRIVETH FOR THE MASTERY, IS TEMPERATE IN ALL THINGS.

One word in reference to making and observing a _pledge_ for abstinence. As it respects yourself, it will show a resolute, independent mind, and be deciding the question once for all, and thus supersede the necessity of deciding it a thousand times, when the temptation is offered. It will, moreover, supersede the inconvenience of perpetual warfare with appetite and temptation. And as it respects others, of feebler minds, or stronger appetites, your _example_ may be immeasurably important. Multitudes may thus be secured to a life of sobriety, who, but for this pledge, would never have had the requisite firmness. Your influence may thus extend on the right hand and on the left, and down to future ages; and by such united pledges and efforts, countless multitudes may be saved from a life of wretchedness, a death of infamy, and an eternity of woe.

But does any one still say, "I will unite in no pledge, because in no danger?" Suppose _you are safe_; have you then no _benevolence_? Are you utterly _selfish_? Think of the bosom now wrung with agony and shame, over a drunken husband, or father, or brother. And have you no _pity_? Think of the millions of hopes, for both worlds, suspended on the success of the temperance cause. And will you do nothing to speed its triumph?

Do you say, your influence is of no account? It was one "poor man" that saved a "little city," when a "great king besieged it." Another saved a "great city," when the anger of Jehovah was provoked against it. Small as your influence may be, you are accountable to God and your country; and your finger may touch some string that shall vibrate through the nation.

But are you conscious of possessing talent? Then rally the circle of your acquaintance, and enlist them in the sacred cause. And do you save a little by abstinence? Then _give_ a little to extend the benign influence. What youth cannot, at least, circulate a few Tracts, and perhaps enlist as many individuals? And who can estimate the endless influence of those individuals, or their capacity for rising with you in celestial splendor?

But have you wealth, or power with the pen? Then speak by ten thousand tongues: send winged messengers through the city, the country, the town, the village, the harbor; and thus may you enjoy _now_ the highest of all luxuries--the luxury of _doing good_. And, at the same time, trusting in HIM who came from the abodes of light, "to seek and save the lost," you may secure _durable riches_ in that world, where, saith the Scripture, neither _covetous_, nor _drunkards_, nor extortioners, nor revilers, nor the _slothful_, nor mere _lovers of pleasure_, nor _any thing that defileth_, shall ever enter; but where THEY THAT BE WISE shall shine forth as the brightness of the firmament for ever and ever.

When these opposite characters and their changeless destinies are _seriously_ weighed, none, surely, can hesitate which to prefer. But, "what thou doest, do quickly."

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NOTE.--A premium of fifty dollars, offered by a friend, was awarded to the author of this Tract.

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PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.

ALARM TO DISTILLERS.

BY REV. BAXTER DICKINSON, D. D.

The art of turning the products of the earth into a fiery spirit was discovered by an _Arab_, about nine hundred years ago. The effects of this abuse of nature's gifts were soon viewed with alarm. Efforts were made, even by a heathen people, to arrest the evil; and it shows the mighty agency and cunning of Satan, that Christian nations should ever have been induced to adopt and encourage this deadliest of man's inventions. In the guilt of encouraging the destructive art, our own free country has largely participated. In the year 1815, as appears from well-authenticated statistics, our number of distilleries had risen to nearly _forty thousand_; and, until within a few years past, the progress of intemperance threatened all that was fair and glorious in our prospects. The reformation recently commenced is one of the grandest movements of our world; and to secure its speedy triumph, the concurrence of distillers is obviously indispensable. They must cease to provide the destroying element. This they are urged to do by the following considerations:

1. The business of distilling _confers no benefits on your fellow-men_. Ardent spirit is not needed as an article of living. In the first ages of the world, when human life was protracted to hundreds of years, it was unknown. By the first settlers of this country it was not used. It was scarcely used for a whole century. And those temperate generations were remarkably robust, cheerful, and enterprising. To this we may add, that several hundred thousand persons, accustomed to use it, have given it up entirely within a few years past; and their united testimony is, that they have made no sacrifice either of health, or strength, or any real comfort. Indeed few, if any, except such as have the intemperate appetite, will now seriously contend that distilled liquor is necessary or useful. The little that may perhaps be desirable as medicine, might be made by the apothecary, or the physician.

The talents God has given you _might_ be applied to advance the welfare of your fellow-men. It is your duty--your highest _honor_--thus to apply them. And on the bed of death, in near prospect of the judgment, it will surely be a melancholy reflection that, as regards the happiness of mankind, your life has been an utter _blank_.

2. The business of distilling is not only useless, but _is the occasion of many and great evils_. Recent examination has developed a number of appalling facts, which few, if any, pretend to question. It is admitted that the use of ardent spirit has been a tax on the population of our country, of from _fifty to a hundred millions of dollars_ annually. It is admitted that three-fourths of all the _crimes_ of the land result from the use of intoxicating liquor. It is admitted that at least three-fourths of all the sufferings of _poverty_ arise from the same source. It is admitted that upwards of _thirty thousand_ of our citizens have annually descended to the _drunkard's grave_. It is admitted, by those who believe the Bible, that _drunkards shall not inherit eternal life_, but must _have their part in the lake that burneth with fire and brimstone_. In a word, it is admitted that health, fortune, social happiness, intellect, conscience, heaven, are all swept away by the tide of intemperance.

And now, what you are specially bound to ponder is, that this burning tide, with all its desolations, flows from those very fountains _you_ have opened--the boiling flood can be perpetuated only by those fires which _your_ hands kindle, and which it is your daily task to tend.

The position you occupy, then, is one of most fearful responsibility. You are directly and peculiarly accessary to a degree of guilt and misery which none but the infinite mind can comprehend. I hear for you a loud remonstrance from every court of justice, from every prison of collected crime, from every chamber of debasement, and from every graveyard, as well as from the dark world of despair. I hear the cries of unnumbered mothers, and widows, and orphans, all with one voice imploring you to extinguish those fires, to dry up those fountains, and to abandon an occupation pregnant with infamy, and death, and perdition.

3. The business of distilling _destroys, to a great extent, the bounties of Providence_. Many of the substances converted into ardent spirit are indispensable to the comfort of man--some of them the very staff of life. But the work of distillation not only destroys them as articles of food, but actually converts them to poison. An incalculable amount of grain, and tens of thousands of hogsheads of sugar and molasses, besides enormous quantities of other useful articles, are every year thus wickedly perverted in this Christian land. Who does not know the odious fact that, in many places, the _distillery_ has regulated the price of bread? Who does not know that this engine of iniquity has at times so consumed the products of industry as to make it difficult for the poorer classes to get a supply? "The poor we have always with us;" and cries of the suffering are often heard from other lands. Such facts, it would seem, might reach the conscience of all who are wantonly destroying Heaven's gifts. Can you, for a little selfish gain, persist in converting the bread of multitudes into pestilential fire? How utterly unlike the example of Him who, while feeding thousands by miracle, could still say, "Gather up the fragments which remain, that nothing be lost."

4. By continuing this destructive business, _you greatly offend the virtuous and respectable part of the community_. The temperance reformation has been commenced and prosecuted by enlightened men. It is not the enterprise of any political party or religious sect. It has the general support of ministers and Christians of different denominations, of statesmen, judges, lawyers, physicians, and hundreds of thousands in the walks of private life. They regard the enterprise as one, on the success of which hang the liberties of our republic and the happiness of future millions.

You cannot be surprised, then, that they look with pain on operations directly adapted to defeat their plans, and perpetuate the dread evil they deplore. You cannot suppose that their eye will light on the _fountains_ of this mighty evil but with inexpressible grief, disgust, and indignation. And if you have the common magnanimity of our nature, you will surely cease to outrage the feelings of the virtuous throughout the nation.

5. You pursue a pernicious calling, _in opposition to great light_. The time was when good men extensively engaged in the distilling business, and when few seemed to be aware of its fearfully mischievous tendency. The matter had not been a subject of solemn and extensive discussion. The sin was one of comparative ignorance. But circumstances have changed. Inquiry has thrown upon the community a flood of light. The evil of intemperance has been exhibited in its complicated horrors. Ardent spirit has been found to be not only useless, but fearfully destructive; so that the guilt of manufacturing it is now enormously aggravated.

Good men were once engaged in importing slaves. They suspected not the iniquity of the business; and an apology can be offered for them, on the ground of ignorance. But their trade has now come to be regarded by the civilized world in the same odious light as piracy and murder. The man who engages in it is stamped with everlasting infamy. And the reason is, that, like the distiller, he now sins amid that fulness of light which an age of philanthropy has poured around him.

6. Perseverance in the business of distilling _must necessarily be at the expense of your own reputation and that of your posterity_. You are creating and sending out the materials of discord, crime, poverty, disease, and intellectual and moral degradation. You are contributing to perpetuate one of the sorest scourges of our world. And the scourge can never be removed till those deadly fires you have kindled are all put out. That public sentiment which is worthy of respect calls upon you to extinguish them. And the note of remonstrance will wax louder and louder till every smoking distillery in the land is demolished. A free and enlightened people cannot quietly look on while an enemy is working his engines and forging the instruments of national bondage and death.

Without a prophet's vision, I foresee the day when the manufacture of intoxicating liquor, for common distribution, will be classed with the arts of counterfeiting and forgery, and the maintenance of houses for midnight revelry and corruption. Like these, the business will become a work only of darkness, and be prosecuted only by the outlaw.

Weigh well, then, the bearing of your destructive employment on personal and family _character_. The employment may secure for you a little gain, and perhaps wealth. But, in a day of increasing light and purity, you can never rid treasures, thus acquired, of a _stigma_, which will render him miserably poor who holds them. Upon the dwelling you occupy, upon the fields you enclose, upon the spot that entombs your ashes, there will be fixed an indescribable gloom and odiousness, to offend the eye and sicken the heart of a virtuous community, till your memory shall perish. Quit, then, this vile business, and spare your name, spare your family, spare your children's children such insupportable shame and reproach.

7. By prosecuting this business _in a day of light and reform, you peculiarly offend God, and jeopard your immortal interests_. In "times of ignorance," God, in a sense, "winked at" error. But let the error be persisted in under a full blaze of light, and it must be the occasion of a dread retribution from his throne.

The circumstances of the distiller are now entirely changed. His sin was once a sin of ignorance, but is such no longer. He _knows_ he is taking bread from the hungry, and perverting the bounties of Providence. He _knows_ he is undermining the very pillars of our republic. He _knows_ that, by distilling, he confers no benefits upon mankind. He _knows_ he is directly accessory to the temporal wretchedness and the endless wailing of multitudes. And knowing these things, and keeping on his way, he accumulates guilt which the Holy One cannot overlook. If endless exclusion from heaven be the drunkard's doom, can _he_ be held guiltless who deliberately prepared for him, and perhaps placed in his hand, the cup of death and damnation? This is not the decision either of Scripture or of common sense. Wilfully persevering to furnish the sure means of death, you carry to the judgment the murderer's character as clearly as the midnight assassin.

And now, what is the APOLOGY for prosecuting a business so manifestly offensive to God, and ruinous to yourself, as well as others? Do you say, _It is necessary as a means of support_? But whence have you derived authority to procure a living at the sacrifice of conscience, character, and the dearest interests of others? And is the maintenance of a _public nuisance_ really necessary to your support? In a country like this, the plea of necessity for crime is glaringly impious. Many and varied departments of honest and honorable industry are before you, all promising a generous reward; and, neglecting them for a wicked and mischievous occupation, you must bear the odium of a most sordid avarice, or implacable malignity.

You virtually, too, impeach the character of God. You proclaim that he has made your comfort, and even subsistence, to depend upon the practice of iniquity. It is an imputation he must repel with abhorrence and wrath. Nor is it sustained by the conscience, reason, or experience of any man.

But possibly you urge, in self-justification, _Others will manufacture spirit, if I do not_. But remember, the guilt of one is no excuse for another. "Every one of us shall give account of _himself_ to God." If others pursue a business at the sacrifice of character and of heaven, it becomes you to avoid their crime, that you may escape their doom.

It is not certain, however, that others will prosecute the destructive business, if you abandon it. Men of fore-thought will not now embark their silver and gold on a pestilential stream, soon to be dried up under that blaze of light and heat which a merciful God has enkindled. They will not deem it either wise or safe to kindle unholy and deadly fires where the pure river of the water of life is so soon to overflow. In the eye of thousands, the distillery on your premises adds nothing to their value. Indeed, should they purchase those premises, the filthy establishment would be demolished as the first effort of improvement. And every month and hour is detracting from its value, and blackening the curse that rests upon it.

Let the thousands now concerned in distilling at once put out their fires, and the act would cause one general burst of joy through the nation; and any effort to rekindle them would excite an equally general burst of indignation and abhorrence. None but a monster of depravity would ever make the attempt.

But again, perhaps you say, _No one is obliged to use the spirit that is made_. But remember, that you make it only to be used. You make it with the desire, with the hope, with the expectation that it will be used. You know it has been used by thousands--by millions--and has strewed the land with desolation, and peopled hell with its victims; and you cannot but acknowledge that you would at once cease to make the liquor, did you not _hope it would continue to be used_. Indeed, you must see that _just in proportion to your success_ will be the amount of mischief done to your fellow-men.

It seems hardly needful to say that the foregoing considerations are all strictly applicable to SUCH AS FURNISH THE MATERIALS for the distiller. Were these withheld, his degrading occupation would of course cease. By suffering, then, the fruits of your industry to pass into his hands, you perpetuate his work of death. You share all his guilt, and shame, and curse. And remember, too, that the bushel of grain, the barrel of cider, the hogshead of molasses, for which you thus gain a pittance, may be returned from the fiery process only to hasten the infamy and endless ruin of a beloved son, or brother, or friend.

Nor is the crime of the RETAILER of ardent spirit essentially different. He takes the poison from the distiller, and insidiously deals it out to his fellow-men. It is truly stirring to one's indignation to notice his variety of artifice for rendering it enticing. His occupation is one which the civil authorities have, in some places, with a noble consistency, ceased to tolerate; and one which must soon be put down by the loud voice of public sentiment.

Indeed, the _retailer_, the _distiller_, and he who _furnishes the materials_, must be looked upon as forming a TRIPLE LEAGUE, dangerous alike to private and social happiness, and to the very liberties of the nation. And an awakened people cannot rest till the deadly compact is sundered. Why not, then, anticipate a little the verdict and the vengeance of a rising tone of public sentiment, and at once proclaim the _unholy alliance_ dissolved? Why not anticipate the verdict of an infinitely higher tribunal--why not believe God's threatening, and escape the eternal tempest that lowers for _him who putteth the cup to his neighbor's lips_? Why not cooperate promptly in a public reform that is regarded with intense interest in heaven, on earth, and in hell?

O review, as men of reason, and conscience, and immortality, this whole business. And if you have no ambition to _benefit your fellow-men_--if you can consent _to ruin many for both worlds_--if you can persist in _wasting and perverting the bounties of a kind Providence_--if you can outrage the feelings of the most _enlightened and virtuous_--if you can pursue a work of darkness _amid noonday light_--if you can sacrifice a _good name_, and entail _odium on all you leave_--and if you can deliberately _offend God_, and jeopard _your immortal interests_ for paltry gain, then go on--go on a little longer; but, "O MY SOUL, COME NOT THOU INTO THEIR SECRET; UNTO THEIR ASSEMBLY, MINE HONOR, BE NOT THOU UNITED."

* * * * *

NOTE.--A premium, offered by a friend of temperance, was awarded to the author of this Tract.

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY.

PUTNAM AND THE WOLF;

OR,

THE MONSTER DESTROYED.

AN ADDRESS ORIGINALLY DELIVERED AT POMFRET, CONN.,

BY REV. JOHN MARSH.

I remember, when a boy, reading a story which chilled my blood in my veins; but which taught me never to sit down and try to bear an evil which might, by bold and persevering effort, be remedied. The story was this. A certain district of country was infested by a wild beast. The nuisance was intolerable. The inhabitants rallied, and hunted it day and night, until they drove it into a deep den. There, with dogs, guns, straw, fire, and sulpher, they attacked the common enemy; but all in vain. The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused to return. The smoke of blazing straw had no effect; nor had the fumes of burnt brimstone. The ferocious animal would not quit its retirement. And now the shadows of evening gathered around them. The clock struck nine, and ten. And should they lose their prey? They must, unless some one should be so daring as to descend into this den of monsters and destroy the enemy. One man offered to go; but his neighbors remonstrated against the perilous enterprise. Perilous indeed it was; but live so they could not, and stripping off his coat and waistcoat and having a long rope fastened round his legs, by which he might be pulled back, he entered with a flaming torch in his hand, head foremost. The most terrifying darkness appeared in front of the dim circle afforded by his light. It was still as the house of death. But proceeding onwards with unparalleled courage, he discovered the glaring eyeballs of the ferocious beast, who was sitting at the extremity of the cavern. For a moment he retreated; but again descended with his musket. The beast howled, rolled its eyes, snapped its teeth, and threatened him with instant death, when he levelled, fired, and brought it forth dead, to the view of his trembling and exulting neighbors.

Little did I then think that I should one day see the country rallied on the same spot, to hunt a more terrible monster, whose destruction will require Putnam courage.

The old enemy, gentlemen, which your fathers hunted about these hills and dales, was visible to the eye, and could be reached with powder and ball; but the enemy whom you assault is, like the foe of human bliss which entered the garden of Eden, invisible, and therefore not to be described, and not to be destroyed by force of arms. That enemy did, indeed, to effect his purpose, assume the form of a serpent; and ours has been said, as belonging to the same family, to have occasionally the same aspect. A gentleman in Missouri has recently described a dreadful worm which, he says, infests that country. "It is of a dead lead color, and generally lives near a spring, and bites the unfortunate people who are in the habit of going there to drink. The symptoms of its bite are terrible. The eyes of the patient become red and fiery; the tongue swells to an immoderate size and obstructs utterance, and delirium of the most horrid character ensues. The name of this reptile is, 'THE WORM OF THE STILL.'" I suspect it is one of the same family which is infesting the peaceful villages of New England, and whose ravages have alarmed the country, and caused you this day to leave your homes and seek its destruction. I would not here inquire minutely into its history. It is said to have originated in Arabia, the country of the false prophet. The aborigines of our forests never knew it. They could proudly tread on the rattlesnake and copperhead, but never fell before the worm of the still. O woful day when it found its way to our coasts; when here it first generated its offspring.

Yet there are men who think we belie it; who say that we are needlessly alarmed; that we are hunting a friend; that we are driving one from our country without whose aid we can never check the ravages of disease, or perform our labor, or have any hilarity. It is not, say they, a poisonous foe. It is a pleasant cordial; a cheerful restorative; the first friend of the infant; the support of the enfeebled mother; a sweet luxury, given by the parent to the child; the universal token of kindness, friendship, and hospitality. It adorns the sideboards and tables of the rich, and enlivens the social circles of the poor; goes with the laborer as his most cheering companion; accompanies the mariner in his long and dreary voyage; enlivens the carpenter, the mason, the blacksmith, the joiner, as they ply their trade; follows the merchant to his counter, the physician to his infected rooms, the lawyer to his office, and the divine to his study, cheering all and comforting all. It is the life of our trainings, and town-meetings, and elections, and bees, and raisings, and harvests, and sleighing-parties. It is the best domestic medicine, good for a cold and a cough, for pain in the stomach, and weakness in the limbs, loss of appetite and rheumatism, and is a great support in old age. It makes a market for our rye and apples; sustains 100,000 families who are distilling and vending, and pours annually millions of dollars into our national treasury. Had the wolf possessed the cunning of the fox, she would have told Putnam as smooth a story as this. But it would have made no difference. The old man's cornfields were fattened by the blood of his sheep, and he would give no quarter. And the blood of our countrymen has been poured out at the shrine of the demon Intemperance, and we must give none. Talk we of alcohol as a friend! As well may a mother praise the crocodile which has devoured her offspring.

Look, my countrymen, at the ravages of intemperance. Fix your eye on its waste of property.

At the lowest calculation, it has annually despoiled us of a hundred millions of dollars--of thirty millions for an article which is nothing worth, and seventy or eighty millions more to compensate for the mischiefs that article has done--money enough to accomplish all that the warmest patriot could wish for his country, and to fill, in a short period, the world with Bibles and a preached Gospel. What farmer would not be roused, should a wild beast come once a year into his borders and destroy the best cow in his farmyard? But 6-1/4 cents a day for ardent spirit wastes $22 81 cents a year, and in 40 years nearly $1,000, which is a thousand times as much as scores of drunkards are worth at their burial.

See the pauperism it has produced. We have sung of our goodly heritage, and foreign nations have disgorged their exuberant population that they might freely subsist in this land of plenty. But in this granary of the world are everywhere seen houses without windows, fields without tillage, barns without roofs, children without clothing, and penitentiaries and almshouses filled to overflowing; and a traveller might write--BEGGARS MADE HERE. We are groaning under our pauperism, and talking of taxes, and hard times, and no trade; but intemperance has stalked through our land and devoured our substance. It has entered the houses of our unsuspecting inhabitants as a friend, and taken the food from their tables, and the clothing from their beds, and the fuel from their fire, and turned their lands over to others, and drove them from their dwellings to subsist on beggary and crime, or drag out a miserable existence in penitentiaries and almshouses. Two-thirds, or 150,000 of the wretched tenants of these abodes of poverty in the United States, were reduced by intemperance. So themselves confess. It was rum, brandy, and whiskey, that did it. And the Prison Discipline report tells of 50,000 cases of imprisonment for debt annually in the United States, in consequence of the use of ardent spirits. O, its sweeps of property can never be known.

Look at the crime it has occasioned.

It is said that there is a spring in China which makes every man that drinks it a villain. Eastern tales are founded on some plain matter of fact. This spring may be some distillery or dram-shop; for this is the natural effect of alcohol. It breaks down the conscience, quickens the circulation, increases the courage, makes man flout at law and right, and hurries him to the perpetration of every abomination and crime. Excite a man by this fluid, and he is bad enough for any thing. He can lie, and steal, and fight, and swear, and plunge the dagger into the bosom of his nearest friend. No vice is too filthy, no crime too tragical for the drunkard. The records of our courts tell of acts committed under the influence of rum, which curdle the blood in our veins. Husbands butcher their wives; children slaughter their parents. Far the greater part of the atrocities committed in our land, proceed from its maddening power. "I declare in this public manner, and with the most solemn regard to truth," said Judge Rush, some years ago in a charge to a grand jury, "that I do not recollect an instance since my being concerned in the administration of justice, of a single person being put on his trial for manslaughter which did not originate in drunkenness; and but few instances of trial for murder where the crime did not spring from the same unhappy cause." Of 895 complaints presented to the police court in Boston in one year, 400 were under the statute against common drunkards. Of 1,061 cases of criminal prosecution in a court in North Carolina, more than 800 proceeded from intemperance. Five thousand complaints are made yearly in New York to the city police of outrages committed by intoxicated persons; and the late city attorney reports, that of twenty-two cases of murder which it had been his duty to examine, every one of them had been committed in consequence of intemperate drinking. "Nine-tenths of all the prisoners under my care," says Captain Pillsbury, warden of our own state prison, "are decidedly intemperate men, and were brought to their present condition, directly or indirectly, through intoxicating liquor. Many have confessed to me with tears, that they never felt tempted to the commission of crime, thus punishable, but when under the influence of strong drink." And the Prison Discipline report states, "that of 125,000 criminals committed to our prisons in a single year, 93,750 were excited to their commission of crime by spirituous liquors."

Look at its destruction of intellect.

It reduces man to a beast, to a fool, to a devil. The excessive drinker first becomes stupid, then idiotic, then a maniac. Men of the finest geniuses, most acute minds, and profound learning, have dwindled under the touch of this withering demon to the merest insignificance, and been hooted by boys for their silly speeches and silly actions, or chained in a madhouse as unsafe in society. Of eighty-seven admitted into the New York hospital in one year, the insanity of twenty-seven was occasioned by ardent spirit; and the physicians of the Pennsylvania hospital report, that one-third of the insane of that institution were ruined by intemperance. What if one-sixth of our maniacs were deprived of their reason by the bite of the dogs, the friendly inmates of our houses, or by some vegetable common on our table; who would harbor the dangerous animal, or taste the poisonous vegetable? But, one-third of our maniacs are deranged by alcohol. Indeed, every drunkard is in a temporary delirium; and no man who takes even a little into his system, possesses that sound judgment, or is capable of that patient investigation or intellectual effort, which would be his without it. Just in proportion as man comes under its influence, he approximates to idiotism or madness.

Look at its waste of health and life.

The worm of the still, says the Missouri gentleman, never touches the brute creation, but as if the most venomous of all beings, it seizes the noblest prey. It bites man. And where it once leaves its subtle poison, farewell to health--farewell to long life. The door is open, and in rush dyspepsia, jaundice, dropsy, gout, obstructions of the liver, epilepsy--the deadliest plagues let loose on fallen man--all terminating in delirium tremens or mania a potu, a prelude to the eternal buffetings of foul spirits in the world of despair. One out of every forty, or three hundred thousand of our population, have taken up their abode in the lazar-house of drunkenness, and thirty thousand die annually the death of the drunkard. These sweeps of death mock all the ravages of war, famine, pestilence, and shipwreck. The yellow-fever in Philadelphia, in 1793, felt to be one of the greatest curses of heaven, destroyed but four thousand. In our last war the sword devoured but five hundred a year: intemperance destroys two hundred a week. Shipwrecks destroy suddenly, and the country groans when forty or fifty human beings are suddenly engulfed in the ocean; but more than half of all the sudden deaths occur in fits of intoxication. It needed not a fable to award the prize of greatest ingenuity in malice and murder to the demon who invented brandy, over the demon who invented war.

Look at its murder of souls.