The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation
results of a most serious and threatening character, and that it is the cause,
direct or indirect, of a very large proportion of the poverty, suffering,
vice, crime, lunacy, disease and death, not only in the case of those who
take such beverages, but in the case of others who are unavoidably associated
with them, we feel warranted, nay, compelled to urge the general
adoption of total abstinence from all intoxicating liquors as beverages,
as the surest, simplest, and quickest method of removing the evils which
necessarily result from their use. Such a course is not only universally
safe, but it is also natural.
We believe that such an era of health, happiness and prosperity would
be inaugerated thereby that many of the social problems of the present
age would be solved."
The year has been marked by more detailed examination of the
effects of alcohol upon the human system, with the result that progress
towards its eventual overthrow as a medicine has been distinctly made.
The greatest reforms are brought about quietly, but truth is mighty and
does prevail. It will take time but gradually all will come to feel the
suggestive power in the fact that "The table of nature is spread, and
bountifully spread, for all its millions upon millions of guests, but wine
and strong drink are not on the table."
SCIENTIFIC TESTIMONY ON BEER
(From speech by SENATOR J. H. GALLINGER, M. D., January 9, 1901.)
OPINIONS OF LEADING PHYSICIANS.
The alarming growth of the use of beer among our people, and the
spreading delusion among many who consider themselves temperate and
sober, that the encouragement of beer drinking is an effective way of
promoting the cause of temperance and of aiding to stamp out the demon
rum, impelled the Toledo Blade to send a representative to a number of the
leading physicians of Toledo to obtain their opinions as to the real damage
which indulgence in malt liquors does the victim of that form of intemperance.
Every one is not only a gentleman of the highest personal character,
but is a physician whose professional abilities have been severely tested,
and received the stamp of the highest indorsement by the public and their
professional brethren. More skilful physicians are not to be found anywhere.
We have not selected those of known temperance principles. What
they say of beer is not colored by any feeling for or against temperance,
but is the cold, bare experience of men of science who know whereof they
speak.
A BEER DRINKING CITY.
Toledo is essentially a beer drinking city. The German population is
very large. Five of the largest breweries in the country are here. Probably
more beer is drank, in proportion to the population, than in any other
city in the United States. The practice of these physicians is, therefore,
largely among beer drinkers, and they have had abundant opportunities to
know exactly its bearings on health and disease.
Every one bears testimony that no man can drink beer safely, that
it is an injury to any one who uses it in any quantity, and that its effect
on the general health of the country has been even worse than that of
whiskey. The indictment they with one accord present against beer drinking
is simply terrible.
The devilfish crushing a man in his long, winding arms, and sucking
his blood from his mangled body, is not so frightful an assailant as this
deadly but insidious enemy, which fastens itself upon its victim, and daily
becomes more and more the wretched man's master, and finally dragging
him to his grave at a time when other men are in their prime of mental
and bodily vigor.
BEER KILLS QUICKER THAN OTHER LIQUORS.
Dr. S. H. Burgen, a practitioner 35 years, 28 in Toledo, says: "I
think beer kills quicker than any other liquor. My attention was first called
to its insidious effects, when I began examining for life insurance. I
passed as unusually good risks five Germans--young business men--who
seemed in the best health, and to have superb constitutions. In a few
years I was amazed to see the whole five drop off, one after another, with
what ought to have been mild and easily curable diseases. On comparing
my experience with that of other physicians I found they were all having
similar luck with confirmed beer drinkers, and my practice since has heaped
confirmation on confirmation.
"The first organ to be attacked is the kidneys; the liver soon sympathizes,
and then comes, most frequently, dropsy or Bright's disease, both
certain to end fatally. Any physician, who cares to take the time, will
tell you that among the dreadful results of beer drinking are lockjaw and
erysipelas, and that the beer drinker seems incapable of recovering from
mild disorders and injuries not usually regarded of a grave character.
Pneumonia, pleurisy, fevers, etc., seem to have a first mortgage on him,
which they foreclose remorselessly at an early opportunity.
BEER WORSE THAN WHISKEY.
"The beer drinker is much worse off than the whiskey drinker, who
seems to have more elasticity and reserve power. He will even have delirium
tremens; but after the fit is gone you will sometimes find good material
to work upon. Good management may bring him around all right.
But when a beer drinker gets into trouble it seems almost as if you have
to recreate the man before you can do anything for him. I have talked
this for years, and have had abundance of living and dead instances around
me to support my opinions."
WRONGS WE CAN NEVER UNDO.
(By Delle M. Mason.)
I have come home to you, mother. Father, your wayward son
Has come to himself at last, and knows the harm he has done.
I have bleached your hair out, father, more than the frosts of years;
I have dimmed your kind eyes, mother, by many tears.
Since I left you, father, to work the farm alone,
And bought a stock of liquors with what I called my own,
I've been ashamed to see you; I knew it broke you down,
To think you had brought up a boy to harm his native town.
I've given it all up, mother; I'll never sell it more.
I've smashed the casks and barrels, I've shut and locked the door.
I've signed the temperance pledge--the women stood and sang,
The clergymen gave three hearty cheers, and all the church bells rang.
But one thing seemed to haunt me, as I came home to you;
Of all the wrongs that I have done not one can I undo.
There's old Judge White, just dropping into a drunkard's grave;
I've pushed him down with every drop of brandy that I gave.
And there's young Tom Eliot--was such a trusty lad,
I made him drink the first hot glass of rum he ever had.
Since then, he drinks night after night, and acts a ruffian's part,
He has maimed his little sister, and broke his mother's heart.
And there is Harry Warner, who married Bessie Hyde,
He struck and killed their baby when it was sick, and cried,
And I poured out the poison, that made him strike the blow,
And Bessie raved and cursed me, she is crazy now, you know.
I tried to act indifferent, when I saw the women come,
There was Ryan's wife, whose children shivered and starved at home,
He'd paid me, that same morning, his last ten cents for drink,
And when I saw her poor, pale face, it made me start and shrink.
There was Tom Eliot's mother, wrapped in her widow's veil,
And the wife of Brown, the merchant, my whiskey made him fail;
And my old playmate, Mary, she stood amid the band,
Her white cheek bore a livid mark, made by her husband's hand.
It all just overcome me; I yielded then and there,
And Elder Sharpe, he raised his hand, and offered up a prayer.
I know that he forgave me, I couldn't help but think
Of his own boy, his only son, whom I had taught to drink.
So I have come back, father, to the home that gave me birth,
And I will plow and sow and reap the gifts of mother earth.
Yet, if I prove a good son now, and worthy of you two,
My heart is heavy with the wrongs I never can undo.
SHE'S COMING ON THE FREIGHT.
Or, The joint Keeper's Dilemma.
Say, Billy, git ten two-by-four
'Nd twenty six-by-eight,
'Nd order from the hardware store
Ten sheets of boiler plate,
'Nd 'phone the carpenter to come
Most mighty quick--don't wait,
For there's a story on the streets
She's coming on the freight.
O, many years I've carried on
My business in this town;
I've helped elect its officers
From mayor Dram clear down;
I've let policemen, fer a wink,
Get jags here every day;
Say, Billy, get a move on, fer
She's headed right this way.
I don't mind temp'rance meetin's
When they simply resolute,
Fer after all their efforts bring
But mighty little fruit;
But when crowbars and hatchets
'Nd hand axes fill the air--
Say, Billy, git that boiler iron
Across the window there!
It beats the nation--no, I think
The Nation's beatin' me,
When I can pay a license here
And still not sell it free;
Fer I must keep my customers
Outside 'nd make 'em wait,
Because the story's got around
She's comin' on the freight.
There, Billy, now we've got her--
Six-eights across the door,
'Nd solid half-inch boiler iron
Where plate glass showed before;
But, Bill, before that freight arrives
Ye'd better take a pick
'Nd pry that cellar window loose,
So we can git out quick. ED. BLAIR.
A. WOMAN.
(Dedicated to Mrs. Carry Nation.)
When Kansas joints are open wide
To ruin men on every side,
What power can stem their lawless tide?
A woman.
When many mother's hearts have bled
And floods of sorrow's tears are shed,
Who strikes the serpent on the head?
A woman.
When boys are ruined every day
And older ones are led astray,
Who boldly strikes and wins the fray?
A. woman.
When drunkenness broods o'er the home,
Forbidding pleasure there to come,
Whose hatchet spills the jointist's rum?
A woman.
When rum's slain victims fall around,
And vice and poverty abound,
Who cuts this up as to the ground?
A woman.
When those who should enforce the law
Are useless as are men of straw,
What force can make saloons withdraw?
A woman.
When public sentiment runs low,
And no one dares to make them go,
Whose hatchet lays their fixtures low?
A woman.
Who sways this mighty rising tide
That daily grows more deep and wide,
Until no rum shall it outride?
A woman.
Who then can raise her fearless band
And say 'twas "Home Defender's" band
Who drove this monster from the land!
A woman.
--DR. T. J. MERRYMAN.
THAT LITTLE HATCHET.
The world reveres brave Joan of Arc,
Whose faith inspired her fellowman
To crush invading columns dark.
So, modern woman's firmer will
To conquer crime's unholy clan,
Crowns her man's moral leader still.
A century was fading fast,
When o'er its closing decade passed
A matron's figure, chaste, yet bold,
Who held within her girdle's fold
A bran' new hatchet.
The jointists smiled within their bars,
'Mid bottles, mirrors and cigars--
The woman passed behind each screen,
And soon ocurred a "literal" scene--
Rum, ruin, racket!
At first she "moral suasion" tried,
But lawless men mere "talk" deride:--
'Twas then she seized her household ax
And for enforcing law by acts,
Found nought to match it.
The work thus wrought with zeal discreet,
Has saved that town from rum complete;
Proving that woman's moral force
Like man's, is held, as last resource,
By sword or hatchet.
And following up that dauntless raid,