I Hill II 8 1 m mm I BP Hr Ural 111 mill H iSH ■Hi ipi : , T EI M ' 4y e *£***£'*'* /> PrintecL'byNeale . The lo^.autLLLil 2a innocent of all earth's liv ■ og bnit the crystal "vra^e it $i Sgl ::;,", bo) o OF ' WS 01 ' NEW YORK, R , V A N D I E N , THE MI itF[Fi^OEO(g THE I n ip ® f if i is q roi @ 3 AND SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF TEMPERANCE w % EDITED BY S. F. CARY, M. W. P. OF THE SONS OF TEMPERANCE OF NORTH AMERICA. NEW-YORK: PUBLISHED BY R. VANDIEN. HV5Z9 5 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1850, By Richard Vandien, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court, of the United States, for the Southern District of New- York Stereotyped "by Vincent L. Dill, 128 Fulton-street, N. T. C. A. Alvord, Printer, 29 Gold-street. INTRODUCTION Inspired wisdom centuries ago declared " of making many books there is no end." Had Solomon spoken this in reference to our own age it would have been pre-eminently true, and if the present generation is not growing in wisdom it cannot be for the want of mental aliment. It is to be feared that the mind is dissipated, and the heart depraved, by being required to feed upon the worthless trash furnished by a prolific press. Even in this bookmaking age, a good book is a jewel. A great responsibility rests upon those who offer food to the immortal nature, for the mind once taken captive, like the appetite of the drunkard, demands more similar poison to appease depraved desire. Our design in getting up this volume, is to add to the stock of pure temperance literature, to elevate in the public mind, that reform so full of promised blessings to the present and coming generations. Believing as we do, that he Temperance Reform is one of the mighty agencies to be employed for the elevation of man, the improvement of society, the stability of free popular VI INTRODUCTION. institutions, and the moral and religious renovation of a wicked world, we avail ourselves of the press — the principal medium of reaching the public mind — to promote the precious interests, and advance the standard of this god-like enterprize. As incident to our general design, and to render the work more attractive and interesting, we have introduced faithful portraits and brief biographical sketches of a few of the most distinguished champions of our holy cause. There are many others perhaps equally deserving a place in our portrait gallery ; indeed all who have labored devotedly, zealously, honestly and perseveringly in this department of moral reform, should be enrolled among the benefactors of their race — but the extent of this work prescribes a limit to our selection. The elevated character, and exalted reputation of the contrib- utors to this volume, will be sufficient to commend it to the attention of the reading public. Finally, whether our effort to contribute a mite to the pure literature of the country, promote the well being of society and the glory of God shall be success- ful, remains to be seen ; whatever may be the result, we commit it to the hands of our countrymen, with the happy consciousness of being actuated by a sincere desire to do good. S. F. CARY. ILLUSTRATIONS. ENGRAVED ON STEEL, J. SARTAIN, H. S. SADD, & T. DONEY* S. F. CARY, M. W. P Root Frontispiece. THE REST Matteson.. Vignette Title. THE STORY OF THE BOTTLE Matteson 22 DANIEL H. SANDS, P. M. W. P Brady 49 PHILIP S. WHITE, P. M. W. P Root 74 THE DRUNKARD'S HOME Matteson 103 THE TEMPERANCE HOME Matteson 129 F. A. FICKARDT, M. W. S Root 165 HON. E. DILLAHUNTY, G. W. P Root 180 LYMAN BEECHER, D. D Cox 204 REV. T. P. HUNT Root 225 THE WIDOW AND HER SON Matteson 241 FATHER MATTHEW Root 271 JOHN W. OLIVER, M. W. P Brady 292 HON. HORACE GREELY Brady 310 JOHN H. W. HAWKINS Brady 318 TO €fyt $ntts nf €tmpxnuit t THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY THE CONTENTS. THE RECHABITES MISS PHCEBE CAREY. _ 11 RETROSPECT OF PAST, &C PHILIP S. WHITE, P. M. W. P 13 THE CONVICT MISS ALICE CAREY 18 STORY OF THE BOTTLE S. F. CARY, M. W. P 22 S. F. CARY, M. W. P 29 BRANDIOPATHY. . . . REV. H. D. KITCHEL 32 THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER MRS. EMMA C EMBURY 46 DANIEL H. SANDS, P. M. W. P 49 THE RECHABITE'S VISION REV. C B. PARSONS 50 ADULTERATIONS OF LIQUORS EDWARD C. DELAVAN 56 CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLE.. GEO. B. CHEEVER, D. D 70 PHILIP S. WHITE, P. M. W: P 74 PROEM MISS PHCEBE CAREY 77 THE CIRCEAN CUP T. S. ARTHUR 79 THE DRUNKARD'S HOME MRS. J. C. CAMPBELL 103 THE WINE-CUP MRS. C. M- SAWYER 109 LAKE SUPERIOR AND THE NORTH-WEST HON. HORACE GREELEY Ill THE TEMPERANCE HOME MRS. E. J. EAMES 129 THE SPARKLING-BOWL REV. J. PIERPONT 141 THE LAST REVEL OF BELSHAZZAR REV. J. TOWNLEY CRANE, M. A. 143 FREDERICK A. FICKARDT, M. W. S 165 THE ORDER OF SONS OF TEMPERANCE DR. F. A- FICKARDT, M. W. S-.166 X CONTENTS HON. E. DILLAHUNTY, G- W. P 180 INTEMPERANCE HON. E. DILLAHUNTY, G. W. P. 185 LOOK NOT ON WINE MRS. E. F. ELLET 202 LYMAN BEECHER, D. D 204 APPEAL TO LADIES REV. A- L. STONE, P. G. W. P. .21 1 THE OLD MAN'S LAST WISH MRS. E. C. EMBURY 222 REV. T. P. HUNT 225 SOME THOUGHTS ON THE SUBJECT REV. H. HASTINGS WELD 227 ROSEMARY HILL MISS ALICE CAREY 238 THE WIDOW AND HER SON MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY 241 TEMP. REFORMATION AND THE CHURCH.. REV. E. N. KIRK 265 FATHER MATHEW 271 DASH THE WINE-CUP AWAY W. H. BURLEIGH 278 INCONSISTENCIES OF FRIENDS OF TEMP DR. CHARLES JEWETT 281 TEMPERANCE AND RELIGION REV. ALBERT BARNES 284 JOHN W. OLIVER, M. W. P 292 THE DUTY OF TEMPERANCE MEN N. WILSON, P. G. W. P 301 THE SPOILER.. _. MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY 308 HON. HORACE GREELEY 310 JOHN H. W. HAWKINS 318 THE NATIONAL If £ SO S> H IB & S3 ® S ©FFHSIIEI® THE RECHABITES BY MISS PHffiBE CAREY. They came and brought the Rechabites, who dwelt in tents of old, To chambers decked with tapestry, and cunning-work and gold, And set before them pots of wine, and cups that mantled high, But when they tempted them to drink, they answered fearlessly ; And said, our father Jonadab, the son of Rechab, spake, Commanding us to drink no wine forever for his sake ; And therefore we will taste not of the cup you bring us now, For our children's children to the end shall keep our father's vow : And the Lord who heard the Rechabites, and loves a faithful heart, Pronounced a blessing on their tribe that never shall depart. 12 THE RECHABITES. Thus we will taste not of the wine, and though the streams should dry,. Yet the living God who made us will hear his children cry ; For Moses smote the solid rock, and lo ! a fountain smiled, And Hagar in the wilderness drew water for her child ; And the beautiful and innocent of all earth's living things Drink nothing but the crystal wave that gushes from her springs ; The birds that feed upon the hills, seek where the fountains burst, And the hart beside the water-brooks stoops down to slake his thirst ; The herb that feels the summer rain on the mountain smiles anew, And the blossoms with their golden cups drink only of the dew. And we will drink the clear cold stream, and taste of nought beside, And He who blessed the Rechabites, the Lord will be our guide ! RETROSPECT OF THE PAST, AND CONTEMPLATION OF THE FUTURE BY PHILIP S. WHITE, P. M. W. P. It is well to turn from the busy scenes that encircle us and gaze out, at intervals, through the long vista of years, and mark the changes and revolutions that have passed over the world. In the whirling together of hostile atoms amid the grand com- motion of elemental strife, stirred by a spirit of free inquiry and investigation, the mists of ignorance and clouds of superstition have been dispelled ; and the glorious sun of science, of knowl- edge and of virtue, allowed to shed his warm and refreshing rays along the path of man. Under its benign influence, we have witnessed crowns and thrones crumbling to ashes; the servile yoke of bondage falling from the necks of oppressed millions ; and the going out of false dogmas and opinions in religion, met- aphysics and philosophy, that claimed authority from heaven, and the high prerogative of tyranizing over the minds, bodies and consciences of men. As wave succeeds wave upon the bosom of the great deep, so has revolution followed revolution upon the boisterous ocean of life; bringing up from its depths the whole mass of moral energies, which has swept on with increasing force until the entire aspect of this globe has been 14 RETROSPECT OF THE PAST. changed — until its gloomy and extended wilderness appears in the beautiful garb of a flowery and sunny landscape. And not- Avithstanding destruction has, at times, marked this spirit of pro- gression, yet from the very ruins, from the blood, the carnage, the havoc with which they have strewn the earth — as from the floods of lava sent down by the volcanoes to deluge the valleys, — has arisen a fertilizing principle, to cover with beauty and moral verdure the great plain of human affairs ; until society, which cannot fail to progress while the noble principles of man are in motion, is carried up to that sublime height on which we now stand ; where the light of the accumulated truth, wisdom and experience of sixty centuries breaks in upon the enraptured vision. Well may we exclaim, a new era has dawned upon man ! Awakening from his long and inglorious sleep of centuries, he has marked, with lightning in the heavens, with floating cities that bridge the ocean, with gorgeous palaces upon the earth, with the iron steeds of steam that draw his triumphal cars, his certificate to a divinity of origin; and though fallen from his high estate is still a splendid wreck, and like eternal Rome, sub- lime even in ruins ! So great has been the improvement in his moral, intellectual and political condition — so miraculous the achievements wrought by the arts and sciences in the promotion of his physical and social wants, that credulity itself can scarcely credit. Amid all these convulsions, — these upheavings of mind, that like a volcanoe in throes, have wrecked some of the mightiest fabrics of human creation, moral power has gained supremacy over mere brute force. Revolutions in governments, that change the entire civil polity of nations; in religion, that break down idols at which superstition has bowed for ages; and in philoso- phy, of opinions that had held the force of law for untold gen- RETROSPECT OF THE PAST. 15 erations ; are now carried on and concluded without violence or bloodshed — without hushing the song of the reapers, or stilling the sound of busy machinery. And of all the sublime lights have loomed out in the moral horizon, none of modern date have cast such cheering beams over oppressed and down-trodden man — none have done so much for ameliorating his condition — for refining, advancing and elevating his intellectual, moral and social being, as the great Temperance Reformation that is so rapidly extending itself throughout the civilized world — dispel- ling torpid gloom that has so long blighted and obscured the intellects of thousands, poisoning the nobler emotions of their natures, blasting their every prospect of earthly happiness and hope of future bliss. It is this star of Temperance that directs the drunkard to his earthly savior ; and whose pure light, shin- ing through the widow's tears and orphan's sighs, spans the sky of man's hopes with the rainbow of promise. How many hearts have been gladdened, how many cheeks have been refreshened with joy, how many eyes of sorrow grown bright, at the coming of the new luminary, over whose rising the guardian angels of man's happiness shout jubilee ! When we look back to what has been accomplished in our own country through the efficient organization of that great brother- hood, the Sons of Temperance, the heart of the philanthro- pist and patriot is made to swell with grateful emotion ; and hope, like a beacon light rising over the shattered wrecks that bestrew the bosom of a storm-ridden ocean, and raises the prospect of a speedy delivery from the maddened waves that have long threat- ened to engulph the harmony and peace of society in one com- mon vortex of hopeless ruin. Within the brief period of ten years the great Temperance Reformation has accomplished towards moral reformation — more for the amelioration of the condition of down-trodden humanity — in our own country, 16 RETROSPECT OF THE PAST. than in all preceding time from the first organization of our great and glorious republic. It has succeeded in discounte- nancing a false and pernicious etiquette by removing from the sideboard of the fashionable circle, the sparkling and deceptive temptation to dissipation. It has succeeded in removing inebriety from high places. It has succeeded in arresting the downward tendency of thousands of unfortunate victims to hopeless ruin ; and of turning their footsteps from drunkenness and vice, to mo- rality and religion. It has succeeded in rekindling the pure fires of love and affection upon the desecrated altars of the domestic circle, and of making home happy to families long estranged by blighting discord. The burning tear of despair has been turned into a grateful tribute of affection — the pallid cheek recolored with the bloom of youthful freshness, and the blighted hopes and anticipations of love's young dream, that had been driven from the heart's sacred fane, like the melancholy dove from its mateless nest, have been wooed back from their long and dreary banishment, to rest in quiet through the lapse of coming years. The influence of this great temperance brotherhood — this swel- ling army of practical philanthropists — is felt and seen not only along the private walks of life, but is telling upon the destiny of a mighty nation. It is purging the political arena of its vile corruptions — it is uncloging the wheels of science and of learn- ing — it is building up schools, academies and colleges from the city to the waste places — it is depopulating our prisons, and banishing from the land, the hangman and the gallows. As Heaven is higher than earth — as time is outmeasured by eternity — so do all other schemes of human origin dwindle into insig- nificance when contrasted with the moral sublimity of this great cause. Let us onward, then, in our glorious career of freedom — free- dom not only from the shackles of political oppression, but social, RETROSPECT OF THE PAST. 17 moral freedom — until man is redeemed from the degradation of ignorance and folly and crime, and attains that lofty eminence in the scale of being for which he was designed by his God. — Being a common cause — the cause of humanity — who should not feel an interest in its complete and final triumph'? It is a contest between virtue and vice, happiness and misery, in which there is no neutral ground. Activity is the soul of duty. Then on, brothers, on ! the guardian angel that attends the virtuous and the good, with her snow-white banner of "Love, Purity and Fidelity" unfurled, beckons you to the charge! If you are victorious in the struggle, no warrior's chaplet may adorn your brow — no loud hosannas fall upon your ear, — but that heartfelt joy and fullness of satisfaction will be yours, that all of earth's wealth, pageantry and power can never purchase. And when you fall, though your grave may be unmarked with storied urn or monumental marble, and nought but the rude winds sound your requiem-dirge, as they moan through the tall grass that waves above you, the cheering light of your meritorious labors will shed a rich halo over your last moments ; — and when the laurels of the conquerors shall have faded, and the deeds of the renowned are forgotten, your work of love and kindness will be green in the memory of the just and treasured in the hearts of the good. THE CONVICT BY MISS ALICE CAREY. The first of the September eves Sunk its red basement in the sea, And like swart reapers bearing sheaves Dim shadows thronged immensity. Then from his ancient kingdom, night Wooing the tender twilight came, And from her tent of soft blue light, Bore her away, a bride of flame. Pushing away her golden hair, And listening to the Autumn's tread, Along the hill-tops, bleak and bare, Went Summer, burying her dead. The frolic winds, out-laughing loud, Played with the thistle's silver beard, And drifting seaward like a cloud, Slowly the wild-birds disappeared. THE CONVICT. 19 Upon a hill with mosses brown, Beneath the blue roof of the sky, As the dim day went sadly down, Stood all the friend I had, and I. Watching the sea-mist of the strand, Wave to and fro in evening's breath, Like the pale gleaming of the hand, That beckons from the shore of death. Talking of days of goodness flown — Of sorrow's great o'erwhelming waves; Of friends whom we had loved and known, Now sleeping in their voiceless graves. And as our thoughts o'erswept the past, Like stars that through the darkness move, Our hearts grew softer, and at last We talked of friendship, talked of love. Then, as the long and level reach Back to our homestead old we trod, We pledged to each, be true to each, True to our fellows, true to God. Forth to life's conflict and its care, Doomed wert thou, my friend, to go, Leaving me only hope and prayer To shelter my poor heart from wo. 20 THE CONVICT. " A little year, and we shall meet," Still at my heart that whisper thrills — The spring-shower is not half so sweet, Covering with violets all the hills. Dimly the days sped, one by one, Slowly the weeks and months went round, Until again September's sun Lighted the hill with moss embrowned. That night we met, my friend and I, Not as. the last year saw us part, He as a convict doomed to die, I with a bleeding, breaking heart. Not in our homestead, low and old, Nor under evening's roof of stars, But where the earth was damp and cold, And the light struggled through the bars. Others might mock him, or disown With lying tongue, my place was there, And as I bore him to the throne Upon the pleading arms of prayer; He told me how Temptation's hand Prest the red wine-cup to his lips, Leaving him powerless to withstand As the storm leaves the sinking ship. THE CONVICT. 21 And how all blind to evil then, Down from the way of life he trod, Sinning against his fellow-men — Reviling the dear name of God. At morn he met a traitor's doom, I living on from hope apart, To plant the flowers about his tomb That cannot blossom in my heart. STORY OF THE BOTTLE. BY S. F. CARY, M. W. P In the progress of the Temperance Reformation many scenes have transpired, which are eminently worthy of a permanent record. The history of this reform, if its details could be writ- ten, would furnish a richer fund of incident than all the works of fiction ever published. The many wonderful revolutions wrought in the family circle, the sudden changes from unmingled wretchedness to unalloyed happiness, from death to life, from the bondage of sin, to the liberty of the sons of God, would fill volumes. The cerements of the tomb have been unsealed and intemperance has given up the dead. - Who has not seen the poor inebriate trembling upon the giddy verge of a drunkard's hell, taken from his perilous condition, his feet planted on the rock of ages, and a new song put into his mouth — even praise to God. The writer has witnessed many scenes that would have awak ened in the most unfeeling bosom, undying sympathies for this Heaven-sent reform. The evidences that God is its author and friend are numerous and convincing. Nothing but that spirit that called Lazarus from the tomb, could re-animate the whis ky-rotted carcass of an outcast drunkard. Man may "roll away the stone " but divine energy must call the dead to life. STORY OF THE BOTTLE. 23 The incident the writer imperfectly attempts to sketch, occur- red in one of the cities of the West, during that period when the whole community were excited by the Washingtonian movement ; a movement which arrested thousands, and tens of thousands^ who were on their way to the second death, who are now ripening for glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life ; a movement which has filled many desolate homes and hearts with thanksgiving and the voice of melody. For nearly a week I had been laboring day and night in the place referred to, the houses were crowded to overflowing, and near two thousand had taken the pledge. The lifting up the " brazen serpent in the wilderness " in the days of old, was not more potent to heal those who had been bitten, than was the pledge on this occasion to extract the scorpion's sting. " The blind received their sight, the lame walked, the lepers were cleansed." It was indeed a Pentecostal season. Our last appointment was at eight o'clock in the morning, and the interest continuing unabated, at that early hour the spacious sanctuary was filled. I had been speaking but a few moments when I observed a poor drunkard seated on the thres- hold of the door near the place I occupied. Doubtless for the first time in many long years, he had approached the Lord's house. He had been worshipping at a different shrine. His bloated face, bloodshed eyes, trembling limbs and ragged gar- ments, attested how faithfully he had served the God of his idolatry, and how his devotions had been rewarded. These out- ward exhibitions were but the signals of distress hung out by the soul, the evidences of the utter desolation of the inner man. Like others who have faithfully served the same cruel and inex- orable tyrant, he had suffered persecutions, stripes and imprison- ments, his name was cast out as evil, and his family and friends were filled with loathing and disgust at his presence. All hope 24 STORY OF THE BOTTLE. of his renouncing his allegiance had long since fled. The poor- house, the prison, and the more cheerless hovel, had been alter- nately his abiding place. He had drank the cup of bitterness to its very dregs ; there was nothing left to him of life but the power to suffer, and he had experienced all of death but the quiet of the grave. Such was the wreck of what once was the image of God, now marred and defaced, that had found his way to the door-stone of the sanctuary. A little boy occupying a position near the inebriated wretch, discovered protruding from the pocket of his tattered coat, a small green flask partly filled with whisky. The roguish little fellow watching his opportunity, slyly possessed himself of the bottle and placed it in the pulpit. I held it up before the audi- ence, and inquired who was benefited by the manufacture or trafhc of the accursed poison ! They all recognized the owner of the bottle without knowing how it had found its way into the pulpit. The people were told that they were iri partnership in the trade of making pau- pers, lunatics, and criminals ; that a portion of the profits derived from the sale of that pint of whisky was in the city treasury ; that men were authorized for the " public good" to fill the bottles and the stomachs of drunkards, and convert the earth into a lazar house and a prison. While thus pursuing my remarks the owner missed his trea- sure, and lifting his maudlin eyes recognized it in my hand. However worthless, it was to him a priceless treasure — for its burning and consuming fires he had sacrificed health, strength, character and reputation, and alienated himself from wife and friends, from country and God. Without hesitation or delay raising himself up, he staggered into the house and took his position before me. Pointing to the bible, he said : " That book declares you must render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's — STORY OF THE BOTTLE. 25 give me my bottle." Instantly handing him his bottle, I re- plied — I suppose I must render unto Ceesar that which is Caesar's, but I beg you to break that bottle, that you may " render unto God the things that are God's. The appropriateness of his quotation from scripture, the ludi- crousness of its application, added to his wretched appearance, called forth a sudden burst of laughter. When I quoted the remainder of the passage, accompanied with the appeal, the change in the emotions of the audience was painfully sudden. In an instant silence reigned, the very throbbings of the heart could almost be heard. I continued the appeal to the wreck of a man before me, hoping that some cord had partially escaped the consuming fire which might be made to vibrate. His own happiness, his relations to his friends, his country and his God were all presented. His half drowned memory was invoked to call up the recollection of happier years, and the cheering hopes and bright prospects which were his in better days. What had blasted those hopes, what had cast a shadow over those pros- pects? What was bowing that manly form, tearing his heart and burning his brain 1 What had rendered him an alien and an outcast ? Was it not the demon, personified in the bottle he held in his trembling hand ? Was he not charmed by a serpent whose sting was death, and whose poison was wrankling in his veins, and consuming his very vitals'? He listened, and gave evidence that waning reason though weak, was struggling with giant appetite, and who should get the victory was becoming a momentous question — a question of life and death. I bid him resolve, tendered him the right hand of fellowship, and the sympathies of the good and virtuous ; assured him that others had broken the tyrant's chain — that he was a man and brother, and had only " fallen in the way we had in weakness trod" — That his horizon now enveloped in 26' STORY OF THE BOTTLE. darkness might again be bright and joyous, and instead of wan- dering up and down in the earth, seeking rest and finding none, the heavens above him as brass, and the earth beneath his feet as iron, he might find a happy home, and thrice happy friends — " For him again the blazing hearth may burn, And busy housewife ply her evening care, The children run to lisp their sire's return And climb his knees the envied kiss to share." I showed him the path of life, happiness and salvation. While I thus addressed him, the whole audience looked on with breath- less anxiety, to witness the result of the conflict. At length his fingers seemed one by one, to be fastening as with the grasp of death upon his bottle, and with a force almost superhuman, he dashed it to atoms upon the floor and was free ! The audience breathed again, and their feelings so long pent up, and accumulating strength at every succeeding moment, broke forth like an avalanche. Shoutings and tears were ming- led — for " the lost was found," " the dead was alive again." This triumph of resolution over appetite, and the whole chain of circumstances leading to this happy result, created feelings that could not be restrained, and all were deeply moved. About four years subsequent to this occurrence, it was my fortune to visit the same city, and again addressed the people on the same fruitful theme. After talking to the multitude some two hours they were dismissed. I had descended from the pul pit, and was waiting for the crowd to disperse, when a middle aged lady, neatly but plainly clad, came down the aisle and grasped one of my hands with botfi of her's, her whole frame was convulsed by the strength of her emotions, but she was speechless. The tears chased each other down the furrows of her cheek, made the deeper by misfortune, her lips quivered, STORY OF THE BOTTLE. 27 and at length she stammered out, " God bless you brother Cary ! God bless you ! ! — God bless you. That man who broke the bottle when you was here before was my husband — he is now a member of the Methodist Church with me, and we are going home to Heaven together. — Morning and evening, we remember you in our prayers — God bless you brother Cary ! — God bless you ! " The reader cannot imagine my emotions at that moment. I would not have exchanged them for those of Wellington after the battle of Waterloo, or of any other conqueror of earth. All the gold of California laid at my feet would not have afforded equal gratification. The fawning that wealth commands, the huzzas of the popu- lace which greet a political leader — the glory of the warrior's sword, may impart a momentary enjoyment — but it is not an enjoyment that descends into the great deep of the soul. To have a home in the heart of an obscure woman — to be borne on the arms of a strong faith before the throne of mercy — -to be assured that God has made us the instrument of delivering a soul from death, kindling anew the fires of affection, rebuilding a broken-down family altar — these are stars in the crown of rejoicing that never grow dim — laurels that never fade — riches that never perish. S. F. CARY, M. W. P. (SEE FRONTISPIECE.) Samuel Fenton Cary was born in Cincinnati, February 18, 1814. His father, William Gary, was an early emigrant to the north-west territory from the State of Vermont, and shared in the perils and privations incident to the first settlement of that, then wild country. The subject of this sketch was the youngest of three children, and passed his youth on his father's farm in the neighborhood of Cincinnati. In 1831 he entered Miami University and graduated with a numerous class in 1835, sharing the first honors of the Institution. Entering immediately upon the study of the law in his native city, he received the degree of Bachelor of Laws from the Cincinnati College in -1837, and was shortly after admitted to the bar. His extensive acquaintance, and devotion to the business of his profession, soon secured him a large and lucrative practice. Few men in the west have entered upon their professional career with more brilliant prospects of success. As an advocate he had few rivals. He was very frequently retained in important crim- inal cases, and was remarkably successful. At an early age his sympathies were warmly enlisted in the cause of Temperance, and before he entered upon public life he had delivered numerous addresses upon this subject. When S. F. CARY, M. W. P. 29 brought more immediately in contact with the world, and when led to inquire into the causes of crime, he was satisfied that a thorough change in the social customs was necessary. He had daily opportunities of knowing that intemperance was the great central vice, the radiating point of all crime. Frequently was he called to speak upon the subject of Temperance — and elo- quently did he plead the cause of total abstinence — when its advocates were few. When the Washingtonian Reform began its wonderful career, Mr. Cary was one of the first to welcome it, and his own spiritual strength being renewed, he labored with unusual earnestness to arouse the public mind to the giant evil. His voice was heard, not only in his native city and State, but throughout most of the western, middle and eastern states. Seeking no reward, but the consciousness of doing good, he traveled thousands of miles and induced multiplied thousands to sign the pledge. In a tour through New England, in 1845, he was listened to by immense assemblages of people. A leading eastern journal of that day gives the following truthful sketch of his manner of speaking, and the impressions made : — "Mr. Cary is perhaps, one of the best orators of the age. "We understand he was trained in the legal profession; it is suffi- ciently evident, whatever the training of his powers may have been, that he is a well bred scholar. All who heard him were either convinced of the truthfulness of his argument, or if already convinced, felt within themselves an awakening of the early interests that moved them in the cause. He speaks like a Greek — with the simplicity, the cultivated naturalness, the pun- gency and unembarrassed force of the ancient orators. Mr. Cary's eloquence does not consist in empty words, in which the idea is secondary to the language in which it is conveyed, and which is an evil too common with our professed scholars who 30 S. F. CARY, M. W. P. speak in public: nor does it consist in intellectual exhibition alone ; it seems to have its source in a warm heart, gushing with the feelings of the man, and throbbing with the impulses of a gospel faith. c I may be suspected of seeking your money,' said the speaker, while endeavoring to relieve the prejudices and fiavils of such of his hearers as might entertain them, c I ask no money — I have money to spend, thank God in this great cause. 5 The man stands before the people not only as a mighty cham- pion of the greatest cause, perhaps of the age, but he is worthy of his calling — distinctly set apart from sordid motives, worthy of the fellowship of the good, and the lovers of the unhappy class whose miseries he pities and whose good he advocates." Mr. Cary is near six feet high, thick set, with a large head covered with an unusual amount of very black hair, broad chest, and short neck. He has a large keen black eye — with a benev- olent expression of countenance. When by the current of his feelings he is excited, his eye lights up with a burning brilliancy, and his whole face, frame and every thing about him, indicate with the force of breathing thoughts, and burning words, the terrible strength of his own emotion. In 1844 Mr. Cary was, by the pressing necessities of the reform, induced to abandon the practice of his profession, which was rapidly bringing him wealth and distinction, and devote his entire energies to the cause. — Though not what the world would call rich, he had a compe- tence and was therewith content. From that time forward his la- bors have been exceedingly arduous and self-sacrificing. During the year 1848 he traveled through seventeen states and Lower Canada, and addressed more than 300,000 people. His voice has, perhaps, been heard by more persons than any man of his age in the Union. Always declining compensation, his expen- ditures have been very large. We doubt whether any one in this country has made so great personal sacrifices for the cause S. F. CARY, M. W. P 31 of Temperance as Mr. Cary. Feeling the necessity of a more thorough organization of the friends of this reform than had been presented, he hailed the Institution of the Sons of Tem- perance as the one that should give it stability and success. He was one of the Charter Members of the first Divisions in the west. He was elected G. W. P. of Ohio in 1846, and during his official year more than three hundred Divisions were institut- ed in that State. He first became a Member of the N. D. at Philadelphia in May, 1847. In June, 1848, at Baltimore, he was installed as the Official Head of the Order in North Amer- ica, for two years. The Journals of the G. D. of Ohio, and of the N. D., and his messages to these bodies, show that he is devoted to the interests of the Order, only because he regards its progress as necessary to the extension and prosperity of the great Temperance Reform. For several years he edited, gratuitously, the first and most prominent Temperance paper in the west. He has also written several tracts which have had a very wide circulation. Mr. Cary has been quite prominent as a political speaker, but for several years has felt that the Temperance Reform should com- mand his entire energies, believing that in this way he might render his country and his race more essential service. He was honored with the appointment of Paymaster General of Ohio for the term of four years. He was married in 1836, and during the same year connected himself with the Presbyterian Church, of which he has since been a prominent member. His marriage relation was broken by the death of his companion — and, he subsequently married again. Such is a brief and imperfect sketch of one of the leaders of the great Temperance Army. BR ANDIOP ATHY; O R "JUST A LITTLE FOR MEDICINE." BY REV. H. D. KITCHEL. Pathology should of right be the science of the Pathies, an ology concerning itself with all these various systems of medica- tion, one-sided and hobbyhorsical, in which the genius of a suf- fering and experimenting race is feeling yet, age after age, after some Art of Healing. It is a branch of science yet in its in- fancy, but promises in some future years of discretion to become one of the most comprehensive and rich. Meantime we are 3^et proving all things, and enduring all things, and inductively gathering up the materials for a great conclusion. From all these pathies and all this experimenting, we trust there will come forth in the end a Theory and Practice of greater breadth and perfectness than the world has yet seen. Then shall no quackery be, regular or irregular. Then will our grandchildren be cured. Let us in these afflicted middle ages rejoice in the hope which thus glimmers in the future, and count it a comfort, as we perish of our Allopathy or Homoeopathy, Hydropathy, Lobeliapathy, and the rest, that at least we are useful subjects , dying for the admonition and instruction of generations to come. BRANDIOPATHY. 33 Among these pathies, or one-eyed systems of medication, there is one, which, without a name, and under some variety of form, has long held a high degree of popularity. It has been content without a name. Any pertinent name would have proved only a burdensome appendage, provoking considerations and suspicions altogether inconvenient. If only it might win quiet and general acceptance — if it might silently penetrate all prevalent systems of medicine, and reduce them to so many agencies of its own — why should it fondly court a name? It has been too wise for that — too wise to adopt the attitude of belligerent exclusiveness. It has chosen rather to place itself in relations of friendly alliance with other systems, and take tribute of them all. Of the many delusions which Strong Drink has fastened on men, one of the most mishievous is found in the persuasion that, :n one form of it or another, it is specially adapted to the pre- vention or healing of all manner of disease. On this notion it has wrought itself essentially into almost the whole materia of medicine. It has established itself, well-nigh, as the universal solvent, and vehicle, and conservative element in pharmacy. — This, indeed, though it gives it a vast advantage, is not the point of chief complaint. It has far more dangerous pretentions. It has come to be, in the vulgar estimation, the preventive, the alleviative, or the cure, of every malady that has a name, and of a thousand maladies that have no name, among men. And on the broad current of this persuasion the world delights. For what disease, what weakness, or ache, or ill, that flesh is heir to, is not some form of Alcohol deemed and employed by thousands as the sovereignest thing in nature? Gather a jury of nurses over the cradle of an ailing infant, or around the sick of what- ever age, and listen to their prescriptions, their all-healing con- coctions, teas, syrups, infusions — no matter what else, one thing 34 BRANDIOPATHY. has a place in them all, the very soul of them, " Jest a drop o' ihe best sort o' real old giniwine ." It is the universal sanative. Calomel has not so many uses, nor Sarsaparilla. I would rather have a patent on Alcohol as a medicine than on all the nostrums extant. It is the medicine of the age. Now it is not needful to specify here what of all this is utterly delusive and mischievous, and what little may, by possibility with great care, have good uses. We are little better than sheer infidels, we frankly confess, as to the use or need of Alcohol in medicine ; while we are wholly and intensely convinced that the vulgar employment of it as a remedial agent is breeding and aggravating disease, obstructing the efforts of genuine medical skill, and secretly fostering Intemperance, beyond any other cause that can be named. Brandiopathy — let it have a name ! This is the form of the system to which circumstances have of late given special cur- rency. For if the Cholera has slain its thousands directly, it would be found, if the whole range of causes and influences could be compassed, that it has slain its ten thousands by the vulgar use of brandy as a preventive and remedy. At the rumored approach of that disease, recourse is every where had among large classes to the Brandiopathic treatment — and thus the way of the pestilence is paved, its victims made ready, its work half-wrought to its hand. The following narrative may serve to present, in a very limited measure, the working of this system. For the comfort of any who desire to feel that it is only fiction they are reading, it may be proper to state that the following is as ficticious as the facts in the case would allow, and we regret, more than they, that it is not wholly an idle tale. In the summer of 1849, while the Cholera was hovering over all our cities, and raging here and there in its fury, we took our BRANDIOPATHY. 35 route toward the upper Lakes, assured that if health had any- where a local habitation, its home would be in the cool exhila- rating air, and amid the beautiful scenery of these inland seas. It was with a feeling of indescribable relief that we exchanged the funeral atmosphere of crowded and death-stricken cities, for the free breezes that here swept so freshly around us from the cool north. There was life in the clear air, and every wave that washed our steamer seemed to utter assurances of safety. Here, at least, the pestilence has no place. It may riot in the close alleys of the town, and claim for its foredoomed victims the chil- dren of squalid want and vice — but here, surely, it may not come ! We were some three hours out of port from one of those thriving cities that are springing into full-grown life along the Lakes, but which shall be nameless here, lest this should be found "an over true tale." A few cases of the dreaded epi- demic had occurred within it, of a dubious and occasional char- acter, creating wide alarm, indeed, but threatening real danger only to those whose excesses should invite the blow. We were just beginning to rest in the fond hope that we had left the destroyer behind us, when a sudden commotion was observed below, and a hurried inquiry ran along the cabin for any physi- cian who might chance to be among the passengers. It was the cholera ! The mate was seized with it — was already nearly in- sensible. As one, somewhat conversant with the disease, we gained admission to the sufferer. An insufferable odor of brandy, qualified with laudanum, revealed at once the treatment and the obvious cause of the disease. For weeks he had drenched him- self with the popular preventive. For weeks he had cured himself daily with the same palatable remedy. He had at last cured himself into it ! And still as he lay writhing under the horrid malady, almost every voice was loudly urging a further resort to brandy as the only hope. 36 BRANDIOPATHY. Sickened and protesting in vain against this infatuated course, we left the dying man and sought the open air. Already the boat was put about, and we were on the return. And now the panic was visible in every countenance. Passing the bar, we found it thronged with applicants for the grand preventive ! Pre- monitory symptoms were spreading, and many were earnestly setting forth the virtues of the popular specific. All this was not new, for it had been our lot to observe the effects of this very method before. Just this we had witnessed on a wider scale a little before, when Fear and Drink and the Plague stalked abreast through one of our fairest western cities, and turned it into a field of graves. There too, from the first, brandy had been the reliance. High names in the profession, it was said, had recommended it — just a little, in certain cases, at certain stages — but, alas ! all limitations, all cautions were for- gotten, and brandy, first, midst and last, was the general resort. There was at once a visibly increased use of that article among all classes. The intemperate welcomed the prescription, and sought safety in redoubled excesses. The moderates added a little to their little. The occasionalists lapsed into habituals. To all these a little was simply a little more. Not a few of the abstinents found the current too strong for them, and took just a little for their often infirmities. A few stood firm amid the phrensy, and won again the reproach of ultraism and illiberality. And of all this the consequences were just what might have been predicted. For one case benefited, hundreds were injured. Aside from all ulterior effects in breeding a depraved and ruinous appetite for drink, and in sowing widely the seeds of shame and misery to ripen in years to come, the direct and immediate, result was to produce derangement and morbid excitement, and throw open the door for the very disease they were dreading. Among the passengers there was one, who upon the first cas- BRANDIOPATHY. 37 ual notice had attracted our attention. An indefinable some- what hung about him which we could not solve. He was one of those moral half-breeds in society who have not yet found their level , originally of the virtuous, but tending strongly down- ward under the dominion of evil appetites. Shabbity genteel, still looking up toward some sphere of worth and respect in which he had once moved, and yet drawn downward irresisti- bly toward his own place, he seemed hovering yet between the evil and the good, lost to all but weak wishes and vain regrets. Again and again, as he passed, he awoke in us the sentiment of a something long since known, but changed and lost. This man was found the nearest approach to a physician on board, and had figured largely in the scene that had just tran- spired. Brandy was the head and front of his practice. Him too we had seen practising at the bar, in a style that left no room to question his faith in the remedy he prescribed. We were little over half-way back to port, when, almost in the same breath, the mate was reported as dead, and Dr. Lewis as seized with the same disease. Lewis ! Aye, that is it, then ! The mystery dissolved in an instant at that name. And this was James Lewis ! This was the miserable remnant of that noble one ! And now, as he lay stretched in stupor before us, his sunken and haggard features revealed, far more distinctly than before, the familiar look of the early and most intimate friend of my youth. Amid the rigid lines now reappeared more clearly what he once had been, as the features of the dead often resume the expression of a long- past and better time. As yet his history for the last fifteen years was a sealed book, save as it told itself in his changed and fallen air, and gave assurance that it had been a history of weakness and sorrow. Plied to her utmost, our boat soon lay at the wharf. The 38 BRANDIOPATHY. insensible man was immediately conveyed to the hospital, and the best attendance secured. The application of extreme exci- tants finally awoke the remnant of life, and inspired, for a time, a hope that he might be saved. At an interval of exertion we approached the attending phy- sician, and inquired if this were not an unusual aspect of the disease 1 " The case is not uncommon," he replied; " but which of his diseases do you refer to ? " " The Cholera, of course — what else could this be ? " " There is Cholera in it, indeed," was his reply, " and that will doubtless decide the business ; but as yet it is the least of his diseases. Fright and brandy have ailed him, and his struggle is still mainly with these and their effects." " Then he can be saved ? " " That is very unlikely. He has yet two other enemies to contend with. He will pass from this torpor into a state of uncontrolable nervous agitation, substantially a delirium tremens — and what remains the Cholera will finish. Such cases are of frequent occurrence, and leave scarce a ray of hope." " But this is not mere intoxication, we continued, anxious to gather the views of one who evidently penetrated the whole case." a Not that merely. The matter is complicated. He was alarmed, and in his agitation poured down brandy. This had an effect wholly different from that which it commonly pro- duces. The sentiment of fear, like any other strong emotion or any acute disease, overmastered the stimulus, and disarmed it of its intoxicating effect, and turned it into a simple auxiliary. Its whole force was spent on the excited nervous system, and drove it rapidly through phrensy into exhaustion and stupefaction. We shall probably arouse him from this state — though I can BRANDIOPATHY. 39 scarcely justify it to myself to be the instrument of waking him to endure the torments of the next hour." We led him to speak of the popular preventive. "Brandy," said he, "is more fatal among- us than any dis- ease. The approach of the Cholera has, in effect, elevated all our dram-houses into apothecary shops. Brandy is profusely used, and in connection with the panic produces a multitude of cases scarcely to be distinguished from Cholera. In other cases it breaks down every defence, and throws wide open the door for the entrance of that disease. Already fitted by past dissipa- tion to be the first victims of the pestilence, the lovers of drink fly at once to their enemy for succor. Thousands go thus satu- rated with drink, on the verge of mania a potu, and fall an easy prey to the choleric influence. They are not exhilarated, not inebriated by their draughts — intense nervous excitement super- cedes that effect — repeated and augmented doses fail to elevate and cheer them, and serve only to push them down the declivity of sinking nature into just the condition of this wretched man. Violent measures will awake them from this, but only to pass them forward into a scene of reactive agony, the more intense for every drop of stimulus in the previous treatment. Delirium ensues, the exhausted system falls into the collapse of Cholera, and is relieved by death. Did not others require it, I would never attempt to recover such cases from the easier death which the sinking stage presents." The room was now resounding with the shrieks of the sufferer. Nature was at length fully aroused, and the reaction was terrible. The moment his eye fell on us as we entered, he sprang from the grasp of his attendants, and shrieking our name cowered in an agony of fright in the corner of his bed. He hid his face for a time with every demonstration of terror, then started up and struck around him wildly, as if encompassed with unseen 40 BRANDIOPATHY. assailants ; and ever as his eye rested on us, he recoiled again as if transfixed at the sight. At intervals he would sink down exhausted, and rave in confused mutterings of distress. It was plain that he recognized us ; and what to all others was inco- herent and unmeaning, to our ear revealed the reminiscences of long -past scenes, that were crowding now, at the hint of an old familiar look, on his distracted spirit. All scenes of peril and fear through which he had ever passed, he was passing through again — many in which we had borne a share. Again he fell from the cliff we had climbed together in boyhood, and he was taken up mangled and senseless. Again we bathed in the stream of our native valley, and he was swept out into its cur- rent and borne down, to be dragged out at the last moment of recoverable life. He shrieked our name again, as in that very scene when we strove in vain to reach him as he drifted past. At moments of less distraction, the recollections of happier scenes seemed floating over his soul, but they lapsed speedily into others which we could not recognize, of apparently later date and of a more mournful character. A few hours after he was borne to the hospital, a care-worn and sorrowful woman with her daughter of some sixteen years, plainly but neatly clad, approached the scene. They were the wife and child of Lewis. Their meeting was full of inexpres- sible wo, and plunged the unhappy man into the extreme of wild agitation. Collapse soon ensued, and at the end of another hour he was dead. When all was over, and the smitten wife and daughter had recovered from the first gush of grief, we approached and offer- ed, as a stranger, the sympathy and aid which they evidently needed. The changes of fifteen eventful years had effectually veiled us from their recollection ; and it was only by rare and shadowy traces that we could recall, in the faded form before BRANDIOPATHY. 41 us, the gay and beautiful Eleanor Williams, who eighteen years before became the bride of James Lewis. We forbore to add to her distress by revealing, as yet, that one who had known her in better days was now a witness of her fallen and desolate state. It was evident that extreme want had become familiar to the family ; and we shuddered to think by what bitter steps the descent had been effected from what they once were, to what now appeared. Hastily and with little observance, the body of our early friend was laid to rest in the city burial-place, among the fresh mounds that began to attest the work of the pestilence. At our pressing instance some decent rites were not omitted ; a prayer was breathed over the decently coffined dead, and the broken- hearted wife rejoiced in the plain marble which might serve hereafter to guide her to her husband's grave. When all was done, we easily gained permission to serve them still further. Their residence was nearly seven miles out from the city, in a thinly populated district, still wearing the air of a new settlement. The first generation of rude log-built dwellings had not passed away. It was one of the most fertile spots on earth, and yet poverty and decay were written on every door. Narrow patches of wheat were here and there already nodding their yellow heads heavily in the breeze, attesting what the hand of diligence might have won from so willing a soil. To one of the least inviting of these miserable abodes we accompanied Eleanor Lewis and her only child. As we bent beneath the low entrance, and read at a glance the utter desti- tution of the whole scene within, our thoughts turned back involuntarily to the home that was once hers, in rural wealth, and peace, and love, on one of the sweetest hill-sides of New- England. She sunk on the fragment of a chair, and the full tide of anguish seemed now for the first time to roll over her 42 BRANDIOPATHY. soul. Mother and child wept in unrestrained agony of wo. Believing the time had come, when the recognition of an early friend would prove a solace, or at least serve to divert a sorrow that was too crushing to be endured, we ventured to pronounce her maiden name. She started, as if the voice of the dead had fallen on her ear. Something too in the tone had stirred the slumbering memory, and as she gazed on us she seemed as one struggling, bewildered through mists and darkness back toward the dim light of other days. Through the tangled maze of present grief, and through long sad years of suffering, she ap- peared to trace her way painfully back to the far past, to the scenes and the days when that name was familiar. The mys- tery at length cleared away, and the full light of recognition beamed in her eye. It was with a painful interest that we gathered up from one source and another, the history of this family. We lay it before our readers as the history of one, the discovered mystery of ruin in one small circle. It is the history of many. All through the West, in city and in country, such instances abound. In high places and low, through all classes of western society, may be found those who once stood with the foremost in their profession and practice of temperance, now heartless, recreant, lightly toying with principles they once held dear, many of them ridi- culing and denouncing the whole theory of abstinence as vain and impracticable. Under ten degress of more Puritanic skies they once shone in the ranks of the pledged and faithful. While many of these still retain some damaged relics of their former convictions and practice, others, scattered through the forests and over the prairies, and struggling with the difficulties and diseases of a new home, have fallen utterly and forever. And if a considerate search were made into the notions and influences that have led to this result, one of the chief would be found in BRANDIOPATHY. 43 the so common use, and insidious effect of alcoholic medicines. They are, to an extent beyond all that has ever been conceived, the victims of that popular and seductive delusion, which would thrust on every ailing child of Adam, some form of strong drink as a remedy of unfailing virtue. James Lewis was the model youth of his native town. Sober, industrious, enterprizing, few gave such promise of worth in maturer years as he. A vein of Yankee omnificence ran broadly across his nature, and blending gracefully with his weightier qualities marked him for a prevalent and successful man. Few stood on so broad a basis of character, or seemed so well fortified against temptation. And as he stood forth firmly and prominently as a leader of his young associates in the cause of temperance, it would have been difficult to imagine that the spoiler could ever reach him. At an early age he won the heart and hand of Eleanor Wil- liams. A few bright and happy years they lingered in the old home of their youth. But the story of the West, of its broad rich prairies, its ocean wheat-fields and forests of corn, was then rife on all tongues, and found a ready reception with young Lewis. Soon with wife and child he fell into the current and floated westward, leaving the old homestead in more contented hands. They were soon floating on the canal. Here commenced the insidious process of depravation and ultimate ruin. The damp, chill night-air — the morning fogs — the unwholesome and unpalatable water, as they crept slowly through the long levels of central and western New York — what should shield them from these pestiferous influences? The remedy was at hand, well established — brandy, to be sure — just a little — every tongue prescribed it, and clouds of witnesses corroborated its claims from personal experience. With as pure intentions as any man ever 44 BRANDIOPATHY. swallowed an unwelcome but needful potion, he swallowed the popular all-healing draught. The water was corrected— the damp bilious malaria was disarmed — the stomach was fortified — daily they found many salvations in brandy. The case became still more imperative when they reached Buffalo, that limbo of lost New-Englandisms, when so much of Eastern faith and practice gets left behind. The raw breezes of the lakes demand- ed a continuance of the Brandiopathic regimen. It was sovereign for sea-sickness — in short, at every step a recurrence to the pan- acea became more indispensable than ever. At length this West was reached, and the location achieved. With a strong heart he plunged into the forest, and with a com- pany of adventurers like himself began the battle. And had stern forests been their only foe, the victory had been easy.- — Slowly these log-dwellings arose, and patches of corn and plots of wheat were springing up around them. But the victory tar- ried and was lost. Melancholy agues came, palsying the arm and saddening the heart ; and all the billious ills that pioneers are heir to observed their order. All these were heavy — but all these have yielded to the brave patience of thousands less brave than this man. These did not conquer him, but the remedy for these ! The poison had taken effect. The remedy was loved, and appetite now demanded what custom had made familiar. The history need not' be minutely followed. It was one ever- recurring struggle with disease too often cured — the deep disease, in a word, of morbid thirst, cleaving to its victim, and ever seek- ing and finding the occasions for a cure so welcome. And all through that settlement the same cause had wrought the same desolation. The rest is briefly told. In virtue of his native tact and lead- ership, Lewis had become the medical adviser and druggist gen- eral of the little commonwealth. Of late he had spent much of his time in the neighboring city, or vagrantly dispensing his BRANDIOPATHY. 45 bitters and concoctions — a lost man, but faintly protesting- now against perdition. The Cholera panic increased his practice and finished his career. For months he had been specially fortify- ing himself against that malady, even to the verge of delirium ; and when we met him, he was fleeing in wild alarm — to what issue we have seen. In a week the scanty relics of these wasteful and woful years were gathered up ; the three little hillocks beneath the solitary linden were bathed, for the last time, in tears ; and the wife and daughter were on their way to the old New England home. To you, reader, these glimpses at the downward career of one gifted and safe beyond most, can have but a feeble interest com- pared with ours. And yet, if you will look around you, if you will search a little beneath the surface, you too may find this very process of perdition repeating itself in every essential fea- ture. This is but one glance we have shown you into a great deep of ruin, concealed, almost unsuspected, into which, one by one, a multitude are dropping in silence and mystery from our side. We have shown the process in a single instance — a pro- cess which has more to do in furnishing the victims of intem- perance than any suspect. Here is an influence of a nature so secret and subtle as almost to escape suspicion, yet ever at work, in the past and now, baffling our efforts, ruining our hopes, thrusting back the reformed, ensnaring the unwary, and infect- ing whole classes and regions with false notions and a fatal prac- tice. The fruits of all this we have long lamented, while the process of the mischief has never been sufficiently explored and adequately estimated. Let us better consider this. It is not an occasional thrust the enemy is making in this sort — it is the operation of a well-devised and settled system, old, wide-working evasive of all pledges, eluding the decisions of the judgment and perverting the conscience, and in the name of health and life ministering the worst of diseases, the most terrible of death*. THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER. AN APOL OG-UE. BY MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY. There was once a child, a noble and beautiful boy, who, des- pising- the pastimes of his companions, found all his pleasure in the woods and wilds. The more inaccessible was the mountain pass, the better he loved to tread its rugged way : the deeper the mountain torrent, the more tempting seemed its cool waters. Gentle and docile as a babe in all things else, in this he was not to be curbed by the will of others, but would wander for days in the deep forest, and heap his bed of dried leaves on the brink of the most frightful precipices. Wearied and heated, he entered one day into a dark and nar- row dell, whose sides were so precipitous and so thickly clothed with trees that only at noon-day could the sunshine glitter on the threadlike stream which wound its way through the deep ravine. The cool freshness of the place, the shadowy twilight diffused around, the soft thick turf, which the moisture from the hill-side kept as green as a living emerald, all invited him to repose. So the boy flung himself beside the rivulet, and resting his head on the roots of a gigantic oak was fast sinking into slumber, when he was aroused by the faint murmur of music. Like a chime of fairy-bells came that sweet, low ringing tones, THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER. 47 so faint, yet so distinct upon his ear. Yet it roused him not from his repose ; it chased away the heavy vapors from his brain, and brought sweet delicious dreams, but it did not fully awake him. His heart seemed melting within him, and a trem- ulous and thrilling torpor was fast creeping over his limbs. But even while the inarticulate singing of that wonderful melody was in his ears, he felt, rather than saw, a marvelous light shin- ing before him. The starry-diamond, the wave-lighted emerald, the heaven-tinted sapphire, the sunset-hued opal, the shadowless chrysolite, and crimson-hearted ruby, all seemed melted and blended with that ray which flashed and faded, and again gleam- ed gloriously before his half-shut eye. The boy grew faint with delight. The music and the shifting splendors of that ray seemed to him one and the same. He knew not whether his eye beheld those charming bells, or his ear was blessed with that rich harmony of colors. Sometimes he struggled faintly to arouse himself, and then he ever caught sight of a dimly out- lined form, coiled and twisted like the cable of a mighty ship, which seemed hiding itself behind that wondrous light. But the music would ring out a sweeter peal, the changeful tints of that marvelous splendor would flash athwart his sight, until the boy sank back again upon his mossy pillow, dazzled and sick with beaut)'' and delight. Noon came and went — sunset gilded the green earth — night flung her shadowy veil over all nature — the quiet stars looked down into the deep dark dell where the boy was lying ; yet the music paused not, and those wondrous hues were fadeless. For him nature had but one voice, and life but one aspect. All was beauty and bliss in that deep intoxication of soul and spirit. On the morrow an aged man who had gone forth to meditate at eventide, found the boy still lying on the soft turf, with his head yet resting oh its mossy pillow. But the warm breath 48 THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER. stirred not now those clustering curls, and his glazed eye was strained wildly open, as if some brief and terrible agony had roused the sleeper in his life's last hour. He was dead — that young and gentle boy — he had died in that dream of beauty, but upon his lip was a purple spot, and a single drop of blood had fallen upon his white bosom. Then said the sage, " He hath slept upon the den of the bas- ilisk, and it is the queen of the serpents who hath bewildered and slain him." As he spoke, the flashing of those marvelous tints troubled his aged eyes, and a creature of strange beauty, bearing upon its head a crown from whence came this wondrous light, reared itself from the root of the old tree, while the chiming of those mystic bells now came with articulate voice. " I slew him not," sang the voice — " I slew not, I breathed a dream of beauty into his spirit, and his human nature sank beneath its sweetness. I did but kiss his fresh lips, and lo ! his soul came forth from its prison house." " Child of perdition ! " cried the sage, " the hour cometh when thy dazzling crown shall be torn from thy serpent brow, and thy voice of music shall be changed into the wail of everlasting despair." " But till then," sang the sweet and melancholy voice, " till that evil time cometh, will men listen to my singing, and look upon my beauty, and die in the madness of their dream." ■ T.Doney ^ -i^FoMoWoIPc DANIEL H. SANDS, P. M. W. P. It is now nearly thirty years since Mr. Sands had his attention drawn by providential circumstances to the great evil of the drinking customs, then almost universally prevalent ; and early in 1821, he came to the decision to discountenance by his ex- ample the use of ardent spirits, and the practice of offering" it to others, he did not then perceive the danger of fermented drinks. But he was not long in discovering that the great enemy could operate as certainly through wine, ale, cider, &c, as through ardent spirits, and he comprehended in his decision, all beverages that could intoxicate. When the Washingtonian movement commenced, Mr. Sands was much impressed with the belief, that not only might the sober be preserved from falling, but that drunkards were not irrecoverably, and hopelessly lost. He rejoiced in the success of the Washingtonians, and was happy to aid them according to his means and opportunities. His heart warmed and expand- ed with zeal for the extension of the reform, and when, in 1842, the organization of the Sons of Temperance took place, Mr. Sands was one of the first to enter heartily into it, and was chosen the first W. P. of the first Division of the Order. He was also the first G. W. P., and the first installed M. W. P. of the National Division. Mr. Sands is a man of great simplicity and integrity of cha- racter, and though quiet and unobtrusive in manner, his influence has ever been valuable to the Cause. 4 THE RECHABITE'S VISION. (Suggested by the SSth Chapter of Jeremiah) BY REV. C. B. PARSONS. Loud rose the song in "Igdaliah's" hall, Where Bacchus crown'd, presided o'er the feast; There, "wine and wassail ?' spread their mad'ning thrall, And frenzy rolled from king to cowled priest As Judah spoke. To " Jaazaniah " speed, And bear unto the Rechabitish seer, The king's command — no stern denial heed, But bid him straight before us here appear. That ancient chief who, scorns the " vinal " grace And brands the wine-cup, as a guilty thing, Shall here abjure his vow before our face, And " Jonadab " shall know that we are king. Speed thee, slave, speed — while yet the fountains play And rich red streams proclaim the king's behest,* Quick bring the seer, that on our natal day, — But stay, he comes — hail ! thou, of heaven blest. * It was not uncommon in ancient days, for kings and nobles on their birth days to supply the fountains with wine instead of water. THE RECHABITE'S VISION. 51 Welcome to this, our ancient festal hall, Yea, doubly so on this our natal day For now, no strife of war, no trumpet-call Shall snatch from " Festa," vino's power away. Fill high the sparkling bowl — fill full the wine, Yea, fill, till flood-like it o'ernow the brim ; We drink to Rechab's race, whose vow and mine, Be now dissolved in this our pledge to him. So bid the minstrels sound their loudest strain, And let the revel banish each control, " The wine is red ; " come drink and fear no pain, Let Rechab's pledge be buried in the bowl. Hold ! mighty king ; — 'twas Rechab's clarion voice, And instant hushed was every noisy breath, " In Jonadab " be still our cherished choice, For true " the wine is red ; " — 'tis blood — 'tis death. No vow be broken by our humble race, No poison streams defile our healthful life, No Bach'nal routs our peaceful vales disgrace For drunken orgies lead to deadly strife. No ! sacred be our ancient holy vow, Which still protects, from every fear and dread, And stamps on each glad hour from past till now, " Look not upon the wine-cup, when 'tis red." * From God himself the fearful warning rings, That "they have wo" who tarry at the wine, The serpent's bite, and fatal adder's sting Are in the cup, — the counsel is divine. Hast thou forgot the Persian and his fate, — The hand and writing on the garnished wall] * Proverbs, chap, xxiii. 52 THE RECHABITE'S VISION. The death of Empire and the wreck of State, Swallowed and lost in wretched " Bela's " fall ? What was there, stronger than his brazen gate, What more powerful than Euphrate's tide? Not the " Mede," — no — the wine-cup was the fate, The wine-cup slew the monarch in his pride. Dost thou not see along the lengthened line Where Grecia's hero also yields his breath ! " The wine was red," — and e'en the " youth divine," " Young Ammon,"f — though a god lies cold in death. Vainly now Timotheus strikes the lyre, And vainly "Lais," strives her lord to save, " Long at the wine," hath set the fatal fire, And Phillip's son sinks to a drunkard's grave. And canst thou, King ; — of great Josiah's race Thus calmly justify the withering ban? Dost thou not tremble? — destiny to face, And hear the stern reproach, — " thou art the man ! " There treason lurks, — there rapine, fraud and death, In clust'ring fury madden 'round the bowl; There friendship withers, — there the Simoon breath Of Zamiel fires — fierce torment the soul. 'Tis Circe's cup — 'tis Hecate's deadly bane, — 'Tis well begun; — "the worm that never dies," Let Liberty, — nay life itself be ta'en, But never said, that Rechab's conduct lies. Hear me, David's son, and mark the tale Of Rechab's sojourn in thy mountain dell, He came no pauper, fortune to bewail, But clad in steel, thy foemen to repel. * Alexander in his madness, claimed to be the son of Jupiter Ammon. THE RECHABITE'S VISION. 53 When Syrian Cohorts crossed the Jordan's wave, And shuddering, seized on peaceful Salem's throne, Then Rechab came, — to strive, — to fight, — to save, His valor thine ; — his vow to God alone. And wouldst thou now corrupt old Rechab 's name And brand the falsehood on his aged brow; To be like Sampson, — cruel sport and shame For " weird " wantons ; — these around us now 1 No; e'er that Pledge which our great father gave Shall be dishonor'd in his distant son, We'll court the cold embraces of the grave, And end in virtue, as we first begun. — But hear king, what God has deign'd to show; The veil is lifted off the weight of years, And triumph gleams with gratulation's glow, — The fire-stream dies and sober joy appears. As in my tent I sat on yester-e'en And mused and mourned o'er this, thy wicked day, A vision rose, upon whose face were seen, Things which shall be, though yet they're far away. A city shone, — bright, — mark monarch great, 'Twas not our Sodom, — neither yet Gomorrah, But clearly there I saw the drunkard's fate ; — The spirit glar'd, and told of gloomy sorrow. — And yet it was not all so dark and drear, For hope was smiling there, — was glad, — serene ; The "Lion of the Isles" in mad career Had met his fate ; — the Eagle swept the scene. The wind was wing'd with stripes, and stars revolv'd With billowy splendor, in a sea of blue ; They told of " Union " ne'er to be dissolved While honor lived, or God — or heav'n was true. 54 THE RECHABITE'S VISION. 'Twas a new land, where glory brightly beamed, — Where Freedom, regal sat, — and slaves were none, High amid the glory, glittering, seemed, — A name. I read that name ; — 'twas Washington. . The vision pass'd, when lo another sight; Midst teeming thousands, — borne aloft in air, Was Rechab's Vow, adorned in spotless white, The chorus swelled, and honor glistened there. And now as " snow flakes " resting on the night Or orient pearl in swarthy Ethiop's ear, Those collar'd hosts of love, — all glorious, bright As bands of angels show, in their career. When Moses smote, in desert land the rock And Israel's crime was in the flood forgiven, A single fountain answered to the shock, But now they're many as the stars of heaven. The Sons of Temperance, each a living spring Of moral power; — I see them in the strife, They drive the foe, — they seek, — they save and bring, The poor — the withered heart, again to life. Hail holy throng, inspirited with " Love," Be " Purity " thy watch ward and thy guard, While " Fidelity," peerless from above Leads to crowning victory and reward. .At. 4> jB, su At* At*