ago.
When she to one who sought her love did heart and hand

bestow;
And those who saw his noble mien, and knew how good

W^ SJlBy

Said, as they drank the sparkling wine, " Hojv happy
they will be I"

Bat now she weary waits and weeps, a poor, neglected

wife ;
The wine made glad her marriage feast, but QW^ed. her

wedded life.
Yet still, with woman's fervent love, she prays, on bended

knee,
For strength to him to shun the cup, that they may happy

be.

She starts 'with gladness as she hears the sound of run-

ning feet ;
She knows the footfall, and she runs her darling boy to

meet, —



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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 35

•«0 motberl mother I" cries the child, his face lit np

with glee,
** My father's signed the temperance pledge, how hai^

we will be I "

Again she bends a lowly knee before her God in prayer,
And clasps an arm aronnd her son in holy beauty there;
Anon the father comes beside his wife and child to bow,
And pleads for strength from Heaven above, — oh I they
are happy now. .

PAUL BOOKFOBD.



Our Anniversary 'Day*

The occasion that has assembled ns is deeply Interest-
ing. We are convened for the purpose of c^brating our
anniversary-day, — the anniversary of an organization
struggling so bravely and successfliUy to check the marck
of that monster enemy of civilization and religion,
that, more extensively than pestilence or war, has pro-
duced, and is producing, the physical, intellectual, moral*
domestic, social, and national wretchedness of mankind.

Our object is to snatch immortal men from the burn-
ing waves of inebriety, and to disseminate such whole-
some information as that besotted fathers and hus-
bands, imperilled brothers and sons, and tempted little
children may be constrained to enlist under the pure
folds of the standard of temperance, which we would
plant on every hill-top in all our broad land. Man is
God's masterpiece. Standing at the head of animal crea-
tion, he is the crowning glory of divine creative pow-
er. God has lifted his brow starward that he may

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36 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER.



look up to and worship Jehovah. He is the temple
of American manhood. Made but little lower than the
^ angels ) in the image of his Maker, man stands an imper-
ishable, structure, which we would seek to adorn and
render Trorthy of divine occupancy.

Intemperance touches with its magic wand the deli-
cate framework of the temple of manhood, and it falls
into comparative ruin. Under intoxicating stimulants
all its powers lose their natural and healthy relation
to each other.

Brother, behold your mission! Is it not worthy
of angelic energies? Will you not labor and pray,
spend and be spent, weep and toil, to rescue the
Temple of Manhood from the *' Great Destroyer," plant
upon it your beauteous standard, reconstruct it after
the similitude of a celestial palace, polish, adorn and
embellish it for the residence of the King of kings ? As
you witness its physical, intellectual, social, and moral
degradation ft*om drunkenness, — as you hear the annual
crash of one hundred thousand such structures falling
on our own soil, and burying by their overthrow an-
nually the hopes of sixty thousand American wives
and two hundred thousand American children, — will you
not go forward more earnestly, laboriously, and hope-
fully than ever before ? Snatching one father from the
billows of intemperance, guiding one fraternal bark
ftom the fatal surf, planting one star in the crown of
Jesus, the Master shall say as angels applaud your life-
work, " As ye did It unto one of the least of these, my
BRETHREN, ye did It unto me." Said Nelson, as he fell
covered with blood, " Thank God I have done my duty."
Said Sir Heniy Lawrence, as the damps of death beaded
thickly his forehead, "Let my epitaph be, *Here lies
Henry Lawrence, — a man who tried to do his duty *"



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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 37



Brothers, so live and toil for man s elevation, that such
an epitaph may appropriately arch your graves.

When in the twelfth century the ancient crusaders
gathered* at Clermont to go up to Jerusalem to res-
cue the temple from the Turks, they shouted, *< It is the
will of God." Europe, catching their battle-cry, thun-
dered bac^k, " It is the will of God."

You are pledged to go up and conquer for virtue and
God the great temple of American manhood. The liquor
interest trembles as it looks on your marshalled legions.
Bleeding humanity listens hopeftiUy for your heavy
tramp. Wives dnd sisters, mothers and children, await
your victories with swelling hearts, and they pray for
you success. Heaven and earth echo "It is the will of
God." Write it, as in letters of fire, on your standard.
Let it be your battle-song on the march. From the
icebergs of Alaska to the orange -groves of Florida,
from the moaning pines of Maine to the glittering placers
of California, the slumbering church awakened, a mul-
titude of philanthropists aroused, and the warm-hearted
men, women, and children of the nation uniting with you,
shall catch your song, and shout back, like seven, thun-
ders, «*It is the will of God." Our mission cannot^
Bhafl not, be a D&ilure. •



The Three Glasses*

The other day two tradesmen chanced to meet*
As they were walking in a certain street,
Within a certain town, no matter where,
Although not quite a hundred miles Arom Ayr.
One a teetotaler, and had not been long so ;
The other thought teetotalism *< no go."

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38 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER.



After some commonplace remarks were made

About the weather, politics, and trade,

"Hark ye,** said one, " *tis an odd story t^s

About the wine." — " I don't know what it is,"

Replied l^is friend. "No I I*m surprised at that;

Where I come from it is the common chat.

But you shall hear an odd affair indeed,

And that it happened they are all agreed.

Not to detain you ftrom a thing so sad,

'Tis currently reported that a lad, —

A member of your abstinence society,

Esteenied by all for knowledge and for piety, —

Did lately drink three glasses of port wine.

And told a friend of his that it was fine." —

" Impossible I" — " Nay, but *tis really true,

I had it from good hands, and so may you." —

** From whose, I pray ? '* Sp, having named the man,

Straight to inquire the good teetotaler ran.

«* Sir, did you tell " — relating the affaii*. —

"Yes, sir, I did, and if 'tis worth your care,

'Twas Mr. Such a-one who told it me ;

But, by the by, 'twas two glasses, not three."

Resolved to trace so wondrous an event.

Quick to the third the lirm abstainer went. '

" Sir," and so forth. " Why, yes, the thing is ftct,

Though in regard to number not exact, —

It was not two glasses, 'twas only one j

The truth of that you may depend upon, —

It was the lad himself told me the case." —

" Where may I find him ? "— " Why, in such a place/

Away he went, and, having found him out,

*< Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt." —

Then to his last informant he referred,

And begged to know, if true, what he.had heard.



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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 39

•* Did you lately drink a glass of wine ? "— " Not I,**—

** Bless me, how people propagate a lie \

Wine bas been drunk, three glasses, two, and one,

But here I find all comes at last to none.

Did you say nothingabout wine at all? '* —

•* Wine, wine I perhaps I might — now I recall

The whole affair." — " Pray, tell what it was,"—

" Why, feeling thirsty, I did drink one glass

Of pure spring water; told ray friend 'twas fine,

And happened Just to add, 'twas < Adam's wine.' "



Tobacco'Smoke in the House*

[To be spoken by a young lady.]

I WONDER if any of you were ever blamed for what
comebody else did. If not, you have been more fortunate
than I. Only last evening, my mother said I brought in
such a quantity of tobacco-smoke it made her sick, and
she wished I would leave the room. Of course, I left.
I shouldn't think of staying after that ; but this morning
I told her all about it.

I had been spending the day at my uncle's, and cousin
Tom walked home with me. He smoked all the way, just
as though he was doing something very grand ; but I
knew better, if I am not so old as he is. When we gos
home, I thought it was only civil to invite him to go in;
and what do you think he said? Why, just this. " Thank
you, but I must finish my cigar." Now Cousin Tom
always* takes it upon himself to read me lectures on lady-



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40 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER.



like looks, ladylike habits, and ladylike manners. My
hair must be crimped in the latest style, my teeth should
be white as milk, and my lips as red as roses. But he
needn't trouble himself any more about my lips ; I can
take care of them without his assistance.

Cousin Tom tells a great deal about the wine suppers
they have in college, and boasts that he can keep a clear
head, while others are helped to their rooms. Perhaps
he thinks we girls are Impressed by that kind of talk,
and I, for one, am so much impressed, that I wish to
hear no more of it.

If he should see a wrinkle in my collar, he would be
sure to speak of it as an unpardonable offence. His
collars are always smooth and glossy ; his hat is in the
last fashion ; his gloves are a perfect fit ; and his boots
are mirrors in which is reflected his handsome face. But
he smokes, and chews, and drinks wine; and whoever
shall be his wife must also be his servant.

So we shall part company, and he may look elsewhere
for milk-white teeth and rosy lips. My mother will
never scold me again for bringing tobacco-smoko into
the house. M.



Butting Off.

I'VE half a mind to do it ;

I would, I'm almost sure,
If this taste for ardent spirits

Twould effectually cure.
If once the pledge I've taken,

I must decline to drink.
Though all the world persuade me ;

Kow could I, do you think?



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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKEB. 41



Tm very fond of cider,

Of ale, and beer, and wine;
They always have decanters

On tlie table where I dine.
I take but very little.

And never o5 the sly ;
It surely cannot harm me.

So 111 wait, tiU — by and by.



I know I'm growing weaker;

Yes, I feel it every hour.
For I want to mend my habits.

And ifind IVe not the power.
There's '* bitters " in the moming.

Another glass at noon :
I fear, if I'm not careftil,

I shall be a toper soon.
I'm spending all my money,

And I don't know where to borrow|
Tis really time I signed the pledge.

And I vow I will, — to-morrow.



** To-morrow ** — and " to-morrow } ■

*Tis thus he still delays,
And clings ta all his idols,

And all his sinfUl ways.

Don't lay the blame on fortcftief

Or say it was his fate ;
The man secured his ruin

By putting off too lata.



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42 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKEB.



Since right is right forever,

Then why should I delay?
I'll spend no time in thinking,

But sign the pledge to-day !

. JOSEPHINB POLLABD.



What Two LUUe Girls l>id.

Characters,

Amos Moore —a drunkard.

Sadib —his daughter.

Alice and Mary ^schoottirls.

Scene I. — On the street. Mary and Alice slowly walk forward.

Mary. I'm glad I've met you, Alice. Stop a few
moments here, where people passing can't hear us, and
ru tell/you why. I think we ought to b^ia thi s ye w —
Y«ar l^ trying to do something to make others better
and happier; and I've seen so many people drunk - dUT lag
the CMfilaQaAiiAUda^, that I am anxious to go to work
for the temperance cause.

Alice, But what can two litti? glials like us do,
Mary ? We can't make speeches like grown-np people. I
don't see what we can do.

Mary. We can find plenty to do if we are willing;
and if we only persuade one single person to stop drink-
ing, it will be a great deal. I shall try, anyhow.

\^8adie Moore enters carrying a large, black bottle; she
is very poorly dremed, and one shoe seems to be coming

Sadie. {Stops and puts out her foot."] There, now!
Chat string's broke again, and it's too short to tie. I ex-
pect the old shoe will come off and get lost before I gel



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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 43



back. I don't care much if it does ; it's ftiU of holes, and
hnrts my foot. Let's see what I can do with it. IDrqps
on one knee, sets the bottle down, and tries to fix the
tiring,"] If father wonld only klep sober and go to
work, I could have new shoes and nice clothes like other
girls. I wonder how mach oftener I shall have to get
that old black bottle filled at the whiskey-shop. I'm
tired of it. We don't have half enough to eat, and we go
ragged and mean-looking, and all because father will
drink. Oh, dear I it's too hard. [^Sighs deeply and mc«.]

Mary. [^Quickly.'] There, Alice, what a good chance
for us to begin our work ; that is Sadie Moore ; I've seen
her before, with that same bottle.

Alice. I don't want to talk to that ragged thing.

Mary. Hush, Alice I remember what made her
ragged. [Advances to meet the child.'] Sadie, I guess you
don't know me, but I've seen you very often, and Alice
and I would like to make you happier if we can. Do you
think your father would tie very angry if two strange
llOIr girls should ask him to sign the pledge ?

Sadie. Will you do that? Oh, I'm so glad I But
father's so awful when he's been drinking, I'm aftraid
he'll scare you most to death. He struck mother to-day
and made her cry, because she begged him not to send
me after whiskey, and then said he'd kill me if I didn't go
right away. We do have a dreadful hard time.

Mary. I should think you do ; we'll try to help you
some, but we are not sure that we can. Will you go
with me, Alice?

Alice. Indeed I will 1 poor Sadie I

8adie. But I dare not go home without father's
dram, he'd be so mad.

Alice. Don't go home Just yet, well go and talk to
him first.

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44 THE TEMPEBANCE SPEAKER.



Sadie. Yes, I'll walk down the street, and then come
back and meet you. But I do feel so mean to be carry-
ing this old bottle, the hateftil thing ! 1*11 try and hide it
if I can. IPuts it under her ragged shawl, Alice and
Mary go out,"] There, that's the best I can do. Oh I I
do hope father will listen to them. [Goes out. Amos
Moore, a wretched-looking drunkard, enter sJ]

Moore. Hal ha I now aint that a jolly nice plan
they've fixed up I Me sign the pledge indeed ! why, it's
enough to make a dog laugh ; ha ! ha ! ha ! Got tired
waiting for my gal to come, went out to find her, hid
iJehind a pile of barrels, and heard it all. I ought to
give her a good beatin' when I get her home, but ru let
her off this time, because them others is to blame for this
caper ; but the next time, — well, she'd better look out.
So they've gone to pay old Amos a visit. Guess they
won't find him. How' nice they were decked out, and
how mean my gal looked beside 'em I and when she was
talkin' to herself, she had the impudence to say that It's
because I drink whiskey she don't get no clothes. Her
things are good as mine, and mine's good enough for
anybody. \_Takes hold of his ragged coat, and examine*
it."] Good enough — well, this coat don't look like it did
yesterday. It's fUll of mud, and dirt, and holes ; wonder
how it got so? [ETcximines his pants, views himself with
a perplexed air."]

See here, Amos, I Just begin to find out what's the
trouble. You've been so drunk for the past two months
that you didn't know much, or you'd know that these
clothes couldn't go so fast all in one day. They've been
gettin'so for some time, and you're Just sober enough,
for the first time, to find it out. You do look shockingly
metn, Amos ; I'm ashamed of you.

Wonder why Sadie didn't have on that nice, warm

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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 45



Bhawl that missionary woman gaf e her. Guess I must
have been gettin' whiskey and rum for a week past with
the money I got for that very shawl; how Sadie shivered
when she tried to wrap the bottle in that old, worn-out
thing she had on, and them nice-lookin' children a-pityin'
of her, and makin' a plan to help old drunken Amos
Moore. {_Put8 his hand to his head.} Oh ! am I so bad as
that, to sell the clothes off the back of my own child to
get liquor ? Ah ! that's the trouble , — the liquor, the rum,
and the whiskey, that makes me a devil. ILooks round
suddenly,'] There, those children are comin'-; I'll not
listen to *em. [^Turns and starts off; they go quickly after
him, and Mary catches his hand.]

Mary, ^r, Moore, please stop a minute; we hop6
you won't be angry with us, but we met your little Sadie
just now, and we felt so sorry for her, and for you too.
So we thought we'd ask you to try and leave off drink-
ing.

Alice. And please, Mr. Moore, please don't send
poor Sadie out with that bottle again, it makes her feel
80 badly.

Moore. IMuch agitated'] You don't know, what
you're asking, children. I've not had a drink since early
this morning, and I'm almost parched up, I.'m so thirsty.
It's no use ; I can't stop.

Mary. Jnst try, Mr. Moore, and if you*re thirsty,
come home with me, and get a cup of mother's good
coffee. It is sure to make you feel better.

Moore. Go home with you ! Why, child, your mother
wouldn't allow such an object to come near her kitchen-
door.

Alice. Indeed she iviU. Mary's mother is just as
kind as she can be, and helps a great many poor people.
ISadie enters shyly, then runs out again.] There Is

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46 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER.



Sadie, and she's run aToand the corner. She's afraia be-
cause she didn't get what you sent her after. You won't
hurt her, will you?

Moore. No, she needn't be afraid, poor, ill-used •
child I \_She comes in slowly and fearfully, '\ Where is the
bottle, Sadie?

Sadie. I — I'm almost-'frald to tell you, father,

Moore. Go on, my child, Pm sober now.

Sadie. I did hate the old bottle so, father; it has
made all our trouble, and so — I couldn't help it, father
— I dropped it down into the sewer.

Alice. That's good! your father can't get It never
again, and, what's more, he don't want it.

Mary. No, never again. He's going home with me
to get some coffee, and you must go too, Sadie, and have
something good to eat. Then your father is going to
sign the pledge, and pa will get some work for him to
do.

Alice. And Sadie and her mother can have good
dothes, and live in a nicer place. Won't it be splendid I
^ Moore.' [^With much feeling.'] May God bless you,
dear c}iildren, for your sweet, cheerin' words to the poor
old drunkard. If I only could be a sober, respectable
man once more ! You've set me to longin' for the happy
days' I used to have before rum made me a brute. Yes,
I'll try, I mmP try, and if I'm saved, remember you've
done the good work, — yes, yow, little ones, have done it.

Sadie. {^Clapping her hands."] Oh, mother will be so
glad, and how happy we shall all be, for I know such
good times are coming for us I [Takes his hand.] Dear
father, I love you so much I [Leads him out, followed bjf
Alice and Mary.]

STBLLA.



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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 47



The J>runkard^8 Child.

Pale were the lips and blanched was the cheeky

And dimmed were those eyes of blue ;
Slow was the step and feeble and weak,

As onward the little one flew.
Footsore and worn, weary and faint,

The light from her eyes flashing wild;
The woe that she felt, oh, who shall paint,

Of that helpless drunkard's child.

Cold blew the wind and deep was the 8now»

As, pinched with hunger and pain.
Trembling with fear, and weeping low.

She sought her sad home to regain.
Nought was within that dark, damp room

But some straw in the corner pil^d ;
And deep the dark shadow of gloom

In the house of the drunkard's child.

She entered there with trembling step,

And wearily sought the cold bed.
While in the darkness she silently wept,

And sorrowfully bowed her head.
Ko mother's arm was around her placed,

Her ears heard no accents mild.
Nor shone on her heart, ft-om a father's face»

A smile to cheer that drunkard's child.

•

There were none to bathe the fevered broWt

No ear to catch the feeblest sigh ;
No kind voice to whisper comfort now.

Or soothe and stay the plaintive cry.



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48 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER.



Alone I alone ! her mother is dead ;

Her father, drunken, mad, and wild,
Will not stoop beside the wretched bed

Of his dying, drunkard's child.

Her limbs grow stilT, her bosom heaves ;

She speaks, and loud for water cries ;
Her lips are parched, she gasps for breath,—

Falls quickly back, with glazing eyes ;
When, lo ! an angel the thirst relieves,

And the soul, in the latest moments, smiled ;
Then upward flew, and Heaven receives

And welcomes the wretched drunkard's child.



Looh Above and Beyond.

My Mends, permit me to address you once again.

Our hallowed cause to strengthen and maintain,

And still exterminating war to wage

With that dread vice, the plague-spot of our age,

Even dire intemperance, which, both strong and fell.

Enchains its slaves with more than magic spell.

Its chains we wish to break, its slaves set flree,

And o'er the land spread sobriety.

Awhile the pestilence may rage, then cease,

And war be followed by the calm of peace ;

But still intemperance marches on its way.

Wasting by night and ruininj^ by day.

Incessantly it plies its giant might

And casts o'er fairest scenes its withering blight.

Full many a home where peace once loved to bide,

And life's glad current long did smoothly glide,

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THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER. 49



Have, by the workings of this cruel foe,
Been pluuged in vice, in misery, and woe.
Domestic peace at its approach retires,
And social comfort 'neath its frown expires.
The noblest minds beneath its power lie crashed^
Their strength and glory humbled in the dust.
But far beyond the mind's imagining
Are all the ills that from intemperance spring;
They far extend beyond the vale of tears.
This little span of life's few troubled years;
For, while eternal ages ceaseless roll.
Eternal ruin fills the drunkard's soul.
In that blessed Book which God to man has gireiiy
The sentence stands, he shall not enter heaven.
Such is the foe with which we have to do.
But which we'll triumph o'er if firm and true ;
But if you coward-like fiee from the field.
And weakly, tamely to temptation yield.
That foe shall triumph, and mankind shall wear
It9 galling yoke through many a future year.
But if you steadfastly your pledge maintain.
And scorn to touch the drunkard's cup again,
]4en, yet unborn, shall bless the noble stand
You made for temperance and your native land.
Then spurn the name of ttaitors, cowards, slaves,
And take your pledge unbroken to your graves ;
While the good ftruits of temperance rise around,
And peace and comfort in your homes are found.
Still let your hearts to nobler objects rise, —
" They build too low, who build beneath the skies."
To faith add virtue, and still onward go.
And drink the streams of knowledge as they flow;
To these add temperance, patience, kindness, love.
And thus secure 4 lasting home above ;
4

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50 THE TEMPERANCE SPEAKER.



Look far beyond llfe*s fleeting, transient day
Where all is stamped with frailty, change, decay i
Start in the Christian race of love,

Its upward course pursue ;
The prize a throne, a home abore,

A crown of glory too.



WaU, Wait, Wait.

"Wait, wait, wait.

Through the long hours of nii^t;
Wait, wait, wait,

Till the morning light.
Till the worn-out slave,

Prematurely old.
Shall drop in the grave

Lifeless and cold.

Wait, wait, wait,

At the taphouse door; #

Wait, wait, wait,

On the bare flagged floor;
Till the weeping eyes

Grow dim and sore,
And the aching bones

Shall ache no more.

Toil, toil, toll,

Through the whole daylightt
Toil, toil, toil.

Through the long dark nighty

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THE TEMPERANCE SPEiKEB. 51



Till the bursting heart
And the wasted frame,
«Sink 'ucath the load
Of gnilt and shame.

Toll, toil, toil, .

Till the wearied hands
Beftise to obey

The heart's commands |
Till the wasting strength.

And the sinking head,
Prepare the way

For the fUoeral bed.

Toil, toil, toil,

Without rest or ease;
Toil, toil, toil,

In pain and disease,
Till the daily brea/^

Shall be hardly won ;
And grief and despair

Their work have done.

Toil, toil, toil,

Till the life b6 o'er,
And the spirit have fled