EXTRACT

FROM AN

ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE MALDEN TEMPERANCE SOCIETY, JAN. 1830.

BY MR. WILLIAM C. BROWN,

BOSTON, MASS.

It is a truth which cannot be withstood, that, three years ago, the alarming vice, intemperance, threatened the ruin of this country. There were a few individuals who saw the terrible catastrophe hastening. They saw that if this dreadful scourge this pestilence that walketh in darkness, and destruction that wasteth at noon-day, should increase for fifty years to come with the rapidity it had for the last thirty years, "The glory has departed!" would be written on the posts of our doors. They saw that the enemies of free and popular governments, who have always watched us with a jealous and envious eye, and who have repeatedly predicted our downfall, would then exultingly exclaim, "How are the mighty fallen!" Alas! alas! thou great nation, thou mighty people! "the fruits thy soul lusted after are departed from thee, and all things which were dainty and goodly are departed from thee, and thou shalt find them no more at all."

At this fearful juncture, they commenced the work of reform with a holy ardor. As they proceeded they gathered fresh strength and courage; and thus far their labors have been blessed beyond their most sanguine expectations.

The expression that this is an alarming and destructive vice, is as true as it is common; but the fact is not yet felt, as it should be, in its full force. By its prevalence our sensibilities have become blunted, and our sympathies chilled. We have regarded it as a kind of necessary evil, and therefore have made but few efforts to arrest its progress. Two years ago, it was ascertained that there were then in the United States 50,000 distilleries; and that 1,200,000 barrels

of ardent spirits were consumed in the United States every year! How is it possible, with such an enormous consumption of this firewater, that we should have less drunkenness? As a still further proof of its prevalence, it may be added, that, to this detestable and loathsome vice, we pay, in the different items of original cost of the article, waste of time, expense of civil and criminal suits, and pauperism occasioned thereby, an annual tribute of 120,000,000 of dollars! Independent, intelligent, as we boast ourselves to be, how is it that we so tamely submit to this degrading and ignominious slavery? Unlike the bondage of the ancient Hebrews, ours is a voluntary slavery. Our Pharaoh is intemperance, and its concomitant vices are our task-masters.

We are shocked with the accounts which we receive of the burning of widows with the dead bodies of their husbands in Bengal. It is said that 600 per year are the victims of this cruel superstition. But our Bacchanalian God, our insatiate Moloch, is not satisfied with less than 30,000 victims per year; making 80 human beings per day!

Among these are numbered the rich and the poor, the learned and the ignorant, the noble and the mean. It lays in the dust the amiableness of the wife and mother. It feasts on the beauty of youth, and banquets even on the wisdom and strength of age. You may see it in the grog-shop and brothel, clad in rags, bullying, swaggering, and taking the name of God in vain. On the farm you may discover it by the prostrated fences, the cattle unruly and roaming at large, and the buildings in decay. You may see it in the splendid mansion, and in the humble cottage; in the study of men of science, and in the haunts of the gambler. Like the frogs of Egypt, it has come up into our bed-chambers and kneading-troughs.

And upon whom will this iron-handed giant fix next his unrelenting grasp? Will it not be upon the temperate drinker? Beware, then, I beseech you, by all the mercies of God, by your duty to your family and country, and by all the blessed hopes of heaven, beware how you sport about the brink of such a fearful destruction.

In the town of Vansville, Maryland, a man, after having drunk up all his substance, became at last worthless and abandoned. He left his children entirely to their mother to feed, or to let them starve. She had four, and was often made to feel that pang which only a mother knows, when she hears her children's cries for bread which she has not to bestow.

She arose one day, as soon as it was light, to work for her children, whom she left asleep on the floor, where they had lain around her, crowded together for mutual warmth, and but half covered with shreds of old blankets and rags, the only remains of her husband's drunkenness. While at work carding, one of the children awoke

went to his mother, and piteously cried for a piece of bread. The cries of the first disturbed the second, and presently all four were around her, with pale countenances and watery eyes, begging for a little food, of which she had not a morsel for them or herself.

This scene continued for several hours, until, at twelve o'clock, one of the neighbors for whom she had been spinning, sent her half a bushel of corn. It is not easy to conceive the transports of the poor mother and her children at the sight of the grain. She gave it to her husband to carry to the mill at a short distance, and waited with anxiety for his return.

Grown keener now at the thought of their bread, the children became more restless than ever; and the torturing cries of Bread! bread! began again to tear the mother's heart. But presently a dreadful suspicion, at her husband's delay, all at once racked her brain. She hastened to ascertain the cause, and when she came within sight of a grog-shop near the mill, she beheld him reeling and swaggering before the door. The hard-hearted wretch had sold the corn for that poisonous fluid called whiskey.

I know of no vice which will make a man so superlatively selfish, and render him so completely a child of hell, as drunkenness.

Another case. A widow woman of the same state, brought three little children, by drinking, to nakedness and starvation. One day, about twelve o'clock, she left her children, who had been crying all the morning for bread, to go to a neighbor's for some meal and some whiskey. Having staid a long time, and got somewhat intoxicated, she went reeling home with her meal. Upon her entrance she found the apartment empty. She called aloud for her children, but heard. only the echo of her sad voice. She searched for them, but searched in vain. The evening was very cold, and during the night there was a fall of snow. Their infant heads had no covering, and their trembling bodies but one scanty article of clothing. Having crossed a stream, they took a wrong course, and lost themselves in the woods. The eldest was six, and the youngest but three years old. The next day they were found locked in each other's cold embraces, with marble cheeks and lips closely pressed together. And as they could not be separated, they were thus buried in one grave; and the mother, in her fits of distraction, talks about being the murderer of her own children.

Almighty God! "if it be thy will that man should suffer, impose upon me whatever seemeth good in thy sight;-give me nothing but the bread of sorrow to eat-take from me the friends in whom I had placed my confidence-place me in the cold hut of poverty-lay me on the thorny bed of disease-let my enemies persecute and defame me-let me sow in the whirlwind and reap in the storm-let those that are younger than I have me in derision-let my welfare pass

S

away as a cloud, and my enemies come upon me as the wide breaking-in of waters-when I look for good let evil come, and when I wait for light send darkness; set death before me in all its terrors,— do all this-but save me, merciful God! O save me from the overwhelming fate of the drunkard!"

If any thing exists in connection with our American Zion, which is offensive to him who bought us with his blood, and which gives the infidel and even the heathen occasion to triumph over us, is it not this affecting evil? Has not the moment arrived, when all the talent and influence of the church should be united to annihilate intemperance?

What an honor is it considered to have been instrumental in the achievement of our national independence. And here is an opportunity to display your patriotism, your Christian philanthropy and selfdevotion in a glorious cause; a cause which will reflect honor upon any man. A cruel, oppressive tyrant has invaded our shores. He has brought with him moral, natural, and eternal death; having no pity for old or young; and will, if suffered to go on, make slaves of us all. Shall we sit still and see his wide and general devastation without an effort? Shall we securely fold our arms, when consequences so dreadful will be the result of our inactivity? Shall we be silent and sluggish spectators of this havoc? Shall the voice of weeping and wailing pierce the very heavens, and our hearts remain unmoved? Shall the loud lamentations and prayers of distracted wives and starving children reach the skies, and we remain insensible? Men and brethren! let us awaken out of our sleep! It is no time now for cold calculation. The enemy is upon us! If he conquer, we have nothing to expect at his hands but tortures and death. His tender mercies are cruelty.

At first he came to us in the garb of friendship. He told us of his skill to heal our maladies. He promised to give us health for sickness-joy for sorrow-pleasure for pain, and plenty for poverty. We took him by the hand and bade him welcome. We received him into our confidence. We embraced him as our brother and companion.

But while he has been a partaker of our hospitality, he has basely insulted and abused us. He has scattered fire-brands and death among us. He has sowed dissension in our families and neighborhoods. He has brought with him pestilence, sword, and famine. He has murdered our children before our eyes. He has carried away

captive our wives and daughters. He has brought down the gray hairs of many a father with sorrow to the grave. He has wrested from the hard hand of poverty the scanty pittance that should have furnished bread for the hungry.

It is against this blood-thirsty tyrant we have waged war. Against this monster we have lifted up the banner. We have girded on the sword in a holy cause, and with a solemn determination that we will never sheath it, until its thirsty blade has drunk his very blood.

Opposition we may expect, but let no opposition hinder us-let no slander offend us-let no ridicule divert us-let no resistance deter us-let no scorn move us-let no threats daunt us-let no reproach, contumely, disgrace, misrepresentation, or obloquy, discourage us. Let Onward! Onward! be our watchword, and we shall succeed.

From the Gulf of Mexico to the St. Lawrence, from the Atlantic to the Valley of the Mississippi, the alarm has been sounded! Let us go up to battle! Let us equip ourselves for the combat! And the Lord God of hosts shall lead us on to triumphant victory!