poverty, wretchedness, disease, death and damnation, and it is being authorized by the will of the sovereign people.

"You say, 'People will drink it anyway.' Not by my vote. You say, 'Men will murder their wives anyway.' Not by my vote. They will steal anyway.' Not by my vote. You are the sovereign people, and what are you going to do about it?

"Let me assemble before your minds the bodies of the drunken dead, who crawl away into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell,' and then out of the valley of the shadow of the drink let me call the contingent widowhood, and wifehood and childhood, and let their tears rain down upon their purple faces! Do you think that would stop the curse of the liquor traffic? No! No!

"In these days when the question of saloon or no saloon is at the fore in almost every community, one hears a good deal about what is called 'personal liberty.' These are fine large mouth-filling words, and they certainly do sound first-rate; but when you get right down and analyze them in the light of good old horse sense, you will discover that in their application to the present controversy they mean just about this:

"Personal liberty is for the man who, if he has the inclination and the price, can stand up to a bar and fill his hide so full of red liquor that he is transformed for the time into an irresponsible, dangerous, evil-smelling brute. But personal liberty is not for the patient, longsuffering wife, who has to endure with what fortitude she may his blows and curses. Nor is it for his children, who if they escape his insane rage, are yet robbed of every known joy and privilege of childhood, and too often grow up neglected, uncared for and vicious as the

result of their surroundings and the example before them.

"Personal liberty' is not for the sober industrious citizen who, from the proceeds of honest toil and orderly living, has to pay, willingly or not, the tax bills which pile up as the direct result of drunkenness, disorder and poverty, the items of which are written in the records of every police court and poorhouse in the land. Nor is 'personal liberty' for the good woman who goes abroad in the town only at the risk of being shot down by some drink-crazed demon. This rant about 'personal liberty,' as an argument, has no leg to stand upon.

"I tell you, men, the American home is the dearest heritage of the people, for the people, and by the people, and when a man can go from home in the morning with the kisses of wife and children on his lips, and come back at night with an empty dinner bucket to a happy home, that man is a better man, whether white or black. Whatever takes away the comforts of home-whatever degrades the man or woman-whatever invades the sanctity of the home, is the deadliest foe to the home, to church, to state and school, and because of what it is and does the saloon is the deadliest foe to the home, to church and school and state on top of God Almighty's dirt!

And if all the combined forces of hell should assemble in conclave, and with them all the men on earth that hate and despise God, purity and virtue; if all the scum of the earth could mingle with the denizens of hell to try to think of the deadliest institution to home, church and state, I tell you, sir, the combined hellish intelligence could not conceive of or bring forth an institution that could touch the hem of the garment of the open licensed saloon to damn the home and manhood and womanhood

and business, and every other good thing on God's earth. "In the island of Jamaica the rats increased so they destroyed the crops, and they introduced the mongoose, which is a species of the coon. They have three breeding seasons a year, and there are twelve to fifteen in each brood, and they are deadly enemies of the rats. The result was that the rats disappeared, and there was nothing more for the mongoose to feed upon, so it attacked the snakes and the frogs and the lizards that fed upon the insects, with the result that the insects increased, and they stripped the gardens, eating up the onions and the lettuce and everything that grew in them. And then the mongoose attacked the sheep and the cats and the puppies and the calves and the geese. Now Jamaica is spending hundreds of thousands of dollars, trying to get rid of the mongoose.

"The American mongoose is the open licensed saloon. It eats the carpet off the floor, and the clothes from off your back; your money out of the bank, and it eats up character. And it goes on until it leaves a stranded wreck in the home, a skeleton of what was once brightness and happiness, and yet some of you keep right on voting, year after year, for the devilish thing to stay and go on with its deadly work of havoc and ruin.

"It is the saloon that cocks the highwayman's pistol. The saloon that puts the rope in the hands of the mob. It is the anarchist of the world, and its dirty red flag is dyed with the blood of women and children. It sent the bullet through the body of Lincoln. It nerved the arm of the assassins who struck down Garfield and McKinley.

"Yes, it is a murderer. Every plot that was ever hatched against our flag, and every anarchist plot against the government and law, was born and bred, and crawled

out of the grogshop to damn this country. The curse of God Almighty is on the saloon. Legislatures are legislating against it. Decent society is barring it out. The fraternal brotherhoods are knocking it out. The secret societies are closing their doors against the whisky seller. They don't want him wriggling his carcass in their lodges. Yes, sir! I tell you the curse of God is on it. It is on the down grade. It is headed for hell, and by the grace of God I am going to give it a push, with a whoop, for all I know how. How many of you will help me?

"You men now have a chance to show your manhood. Then in the name of your pure mother, in the name of your manhood, in the name of your wife, and the pure innocent children that climb up in your lap and put their arms around your neck, in the name of all that is good and noble, fight the curse. Shall you men who hold in your hands the ballot, and in that ballot hold the destiny of womanhood and childhood and manhood, shall you, the sovereign power, refuse to rally in the name of defenseless men and women and native land? No!"

XX

SUNDAY'S VERSATILITY-ROYAL RECEPTION AT COLUMBUS

N°

O one who has heard Sunday through a meeting can doubt but that he would have made a fine actor, had his talents been exercised to their fullest in that direction. He impersonates almost every character he introduces, and does it well. Tom Keene, the actor, was his warm personal friend, and once urged him to become his "understudy." He had no doubt, he said, that Sunday might become one of the world's great actors.

William Jennings Bryan, another good friend of the evangelist, has said that Sunday would make one of the greatest political speakers the country has known, were he to give his attention to politics as earnestly as he has done to preaching. In one address he will astonish and delight by his dramatic portrayal and brilliant word pictures, and in the next he may excel in humor. No one can hear him for just a time or two and have anything like a clear idea of his remarkable versatility.

One newspaper writer said that "when he gave his vivid impersonation of the call of the Almighty to the great Welsh evangelist, Evan Roberts, the hearts of many stood still, and they fancied for a moment that they heard in truth the call of God to the grimy Welsh miner who came out of the coal mines in the bowels of the earth to stir his native country with a power that had