Page images
PDF
EPUB

Who, then, desires to be sick, and to have his disease terminate in death? Let such a person drink ardent spirits; and he will, in all probability, soon obtain his desire. Who would be willing to die drunk? If any, let him use distilled liquor.

The spirit of alcohol regardless of the natural principles which govern the circulation of those fluids which nourish or refresh the human body, or support or carry vitality to its various parts, flies at once to the head and takes possession of the brain. This is literally true with regard to a large proportion of the spirit of distilled liquor which men drink. It is true, a comparatively small portion of it, is diffused, like electricity, through every part of the system. But the greatest part flies to the brain, and when there, with all its power, strives to throw reason from its throne. How often it succeeds, he who tastes the cursed cup can tell. This is precisely the effect of the most fatal poisons: they, in general, do not tarry for the tardy movements of nature, but fly, at once, to the citadel of life and storm it, and the victim dies. Taste not that the spirit of which, almost as soon as swallowed, enters the brain and begins its work of destruction.

third of the adults who die in this country, is produced or accelerated, either directly or indirectly, by intemperance.

But in addition to all this, the use of ardent spirits produces a disease of the stomach, which goes with the drunkard to his grave. His crav

ing, insatiable appetite, unnatural in its production, as well as in its demands, deranges and racks his system, renders it unfit for healthy action, and causes it to exhibit unequivocal symptoms of a diseased state; for the stomach of him who uses distilled liquor, is, at first, sprinkled and soon afterwards covered with pustules and carbuncles. To sustain the vigour of this disease, it must be fed with such an aliment as its craving appetite demands. When this aliment is at first denied, the desire for it increases to such a degree, as to drive its unhappy victim almost to desperation.

But if the victim of this disease absolutely refuses to feed it, it will gradually lose strength, till it becomes so dormant, that he will scarcely, if at all, feel it. The moment however, he tastes alcohol, in any article, for any purpose, on any occasion, or in any quantity, the craving appetite for ardent spirits will begin again to rage; the disease, in all its strength, will return. It will find him off his guard, and in all probability, will throw him into the drunkard's grave. Entire abstinence from all alcoholic drinks does not cure the disease called into existence by the ordinary use, in any quantity of ardent spirits. It only leaves it in a dormant state. It does not destroy

the harpy that preys on the vitals; it only lays it asleep. A taste of alcohol will arouse it into vigorous action. Let those then who have been once overcome by this deadly foe, never suffer it again to enter their system.

The drunkard's horrid disease is partially hereditary. The children of habitual drunkards have a predisposition to intoxication. The dormant appetite for alcoholic poison, though bereft of a portion of its power, is transmitted by drunken parents to their children. This is one reason among many others that might be adduced, to account for the fact, that the children of the intemperate so often become drunkards. Let those then who would not bring this fatal, incurable disease upon themselves, and transmit it to their children, cease to use ardent spirits which will produce it; and if they are already in the least infected with it, let them refuse to taste even fermented liquors; for these will feed, though some of them when unmixed with distilled spirits, will not of themselves (except perhaps in very extraordinary cases) produce the drunkard's appetite. They will not usually create the disease of drunkenness; but when it exists in a dormant state, they will call it into activity. Hence the inebriate, and no other, will get drunk on cider, beer, or on almost any fermented liquor. If then the drunkard would ever become a sober man,

he must totally and forever, abandon the use both of distilled and fermented liquors. Reader, can you do this?

IV. It produces Crime.

.

Intemperance is a fruitful source of crime.* It boldly commits every enormity. It fills our jails, our penitentiaries, our public prisons. It snatches the reins from reason, and places them under the control of passion. It induces idleness and dissipation of thought, together with derangement of intellect and unbridled, angry, mental agitation. It is no wonder then that almost all the crimes committed in our land, and especially those of the deepest dye and of the most crimson hue, should be perpetrated by the intemperate. Who is so hardened as to delight in crime? Let such only use this intoxicating poison.

V. It leads to Poverty.

Intemperance will clothe a man in rags. Poverty will soon throw its tattered garment round the person who needs the morning dram, the noonday toddy and the evening sling. Poverty having marked the intemperate for its own, pursues them through every walk of life. It drives them from the abodes of wealth into those of mere competency, from these into the cottage or

* Nearly or quite nine tenths of the crimes committed in this country, can be traced to intemperance as their procuring cause.

hut, and then the wrecks of intemperance (if they escape the paths which lead to human tribunals) are crowded into our poor-houses. In these

they are supported by those who can labor on their own strength. Of the 200,000 paupers which the United States have to support, at least 150,000 were thrown on public charity by intemperance. Let him who wishes to be poor and despised and an outcast from society, and a friendless, houseless child of want, drink spirituous liquors; and it is almost certain that in a short time he will be more degraded than the beasts that perish. Who is so lost to all shame that he will suffer intemperance to make him a beggar? Who will? Why the tippler!

VI. It murders Time.

Moments are the chariot wheels of time. Carried on these, we are rapidly approaching eternity. The intemperate squander them away. Those spent in making, vending, procuring, or using this deleterious poison, fly on wings of lightning to the throne of God. There they tell the mournful tale, that they have been misimproved. Time deceives the intemperate. Every moment seems to them so much like its predecessor, that they mistake it for the same. The present moment wears the livery of the last which is "with the years beyond the flood."

« PreviousContinue »