SjjIgSgisEH jt.jff.li.l:'! 'CI. -»'••..... - •Wp'rSflr,"1, '-'' :v-': gg^i.,7;v:7.7 Wo—7. SiUU"'".'.' ".I'.'.y,..^":.. ^£iu;poolo._;;.;, ?*V -.<£• 5^^^VA).r^C^'.".'.'--',V,':.Voo •-?i:.1 ;o.' '. .'. ; ■ ' ..»M,,f»:;^;iJ!>;. y "!-.:o.;-.v,,'. o: ■ . ■ gSSWBS^V&i'•....'V^Vr.V::..'/:■."'.■:-.•.-,v..V . -. '. aett't:^'..^-.}::.!! .::..:■■■;!..';. 4?a.-W:i5py.W,ii :.;:;o:-ov "■ ... AN OUATIOlf ON THE CAUSES, EVILS AND PREVENTIVES OF INTEMPERANCE. IN THE TOWN OP COLUMBUS, OHIO. FEBRUARY 12th, 1831, BY DANIEL DRAKE, M. D. '_9Kt»FE?J&R 0» THE INSTITUTES AND PRACTICE OF MEDICINE W MIAHU WHVSJWjTjr. COLVJUBWSt OLMSTED & BAILHACHE, PRINTERS 1331. Columbus, Ohio, 16th February, 183L Sir:—As a committee on behalf of a large number of the anembers of the Ohio Legislature, and citizens of the Borough of Columbus, we have the honor to request, that you will.furnish us, for publication and gratuitous distribution, with a copy of the Lec- ture upon Intemperance, which you delivered in this place on Saturday evening last. We must be allowed to say, that we deem it a finished specimen of rioquence, upon a most important subject. Accept assivranc.ps nf nnr esteem and friendship, T. C FLQUJRNOY, ISAAC COOK, ROBERT SAFF.ORD. Dr. Daniel Drake. Columbus, February 17th, 1831. Gentlemen:—The Address of which you have done me the honor to request a copy, for gratuitous distribution, was hastily written, without a view to its publication; and several parts of it bear a near resemblance, to portions of that which I deliver- ed and published at Cincinnati nearly three years since. As you suppose, however, that the publication of this, may do some good, to one of the great interests of Bociety, I am constrained to disre- gard the unfavorable influence which its publication may exert on my literary reputation, and herewith transmit you the manu script. 1 have the honor to be, Respectfully, your ob't. servant, „ „ „ „ DAN. DRAKE. To T. C. Flournoy, Isaac ' "ook, Robert &aff»ri>, Esq'rs. ORATION OH mrWd^UBJkHC^ il>r Iintemperance is not a special vice of the present day, or of otlfc own country. On the contrary, there is reason to believe, that \i prevailed more in the last than the present century 5 and while no people on earth ever had a greater abundance of Ardent Spirits* or obtained them at a lower price, perhaps, no nation, where they are a common beverage, ever abused them less.. It must be ad- mitted^ however, that in America,, as in Europe, Ardent Spirits are ««> often used to excess, as to justify the establishment of Tenar pefance SucKrtiesi ~'!*«» T-rrfcr- £»dm tl*^ -t.aisfccnrc.Tr <*£ &«*efe associat- ions, that Intemperance is peculiarly an American vice,.wou?ld he fallacious. They more properly indicate a great energy of morai pri'^ciple fa our nation, and prove that it is not besotted1.. That drunkenness, at the present time, »less ihar* forraerJi> is no argis* meut against eSorts for its farther suppression, as philanthropy should aim at the desirable,, tn»a»houon^taaJDahie^ resalt,. of its-is*- - tat extermination. It was feared at one Cirpe. tnateffoyfe fo this end* would Be im> - ttrodtoctive; hvd experieTtce r*a& already shown-this apjwcefiiensiowtte^ be ground! essw It is now generally admitted^ifc&t tfieuBeoi' Ajtedfejifc' Spirits; among tire respectable classes of ^e easfter% middle* B.mL. irestem slates, fras greaify dSm?n*she travel m them* fe a roost enc®o*ag$hg symptom jjffomt «t private ditmer tables^ the potation ofwhisfey aaad^ater^when few- are h?7U done,"''"fediW*t fan-wsnedj. owr ?5%ipe^®cc3ksionaHyr depart ©ri k>ogrvoyager) withrMtt a. st»pplv of Ardent,S$$rit&£ theqijan&ty imported from foreign* corantnes- fe fessenm^and' l^distitfetiofiat home has greatly almted^—altho«gh our pspwlMion•» rapidly ir> creasing- A gentleman of ©bservatfcr^. wbe» has lately travefed ©Ever almost every psffc ttCOMoy informed me to day, that the fenr-- ern keeoers every where <•* mptainv thai traveler* no Icmeesrd'rml as thev lateTv did;- ftWlTr, r'nI" ^naP fwW-sioners; anrf^trntrae- tars* have shovrr?.. th^t.fcbcirersr snd tfeffis tul, he violates no moral or physical law, and suffers no immediate or prospective injury; but the moment he selects and indulges in such as do either, he is a transgressor, and must sufferthe penalty of his violation. He does not raise in his system an excitement favora- ble to the duties and objects which lie before him; but an irrita- tion utterly detrimental to their successful execution. Philoso- phy and ethicks do not, then, forbid all stimulation; but occupy themselves in regulating the selection and quantity of stimulants. They recognize an innate necessity for excitants; but distinguish between the salutary and the pernicious—prescribe the extent of indulgence in the former, and, labelling the latter as poisons, ad- vertise the whole world to avoid them as destructive. They say, eHf'you eat thereof you shall surely die"—and is not this enough?— "if you drink thereof you 7vill perish;" and what deeper warning pould be given? I am aware, that these views are not consonant with those, which prohibit every kind and degree of stimulation. But the advocates of the latter system, are better moralists than physiolo- gists. They do not understand, that the love of stimulation, is an original and necessary principle of our nature; and should, there- fore, within proper bounds, be gratified. They who refrain from every kind of stimulants, if any such there be, would still more ea- $for refrain from those, only, which are pernicious; while many pcr.-.oii-- might be induced to forbear from the latter, wuu *. c»um not consent'to relinquish the whole. Bathe who abjures the per- nicious-, is out of danger; and safety is all that the friends of Tt m* perance can desire. Why then should they insist on more? By excessive requirements, they pass into severity j and diminish their influence, by attempting to extend it too far. They become asc cetics, rather than moralists: anchorites, instead of devotees in a good and great cause. They make proselytes, it is true; or rather, they are applauded, by those, who from peculiarities of constitu- tion, or great elevation of moral feeling, are indifferent to physi- cal stimulation: but the mass of mankind are not with them, nor ever will be. Nature interposes, and her power cannot be over- come, She calls for stimulation, but not for that which works out her destruction,. Our errors, in selection and indulgence, are what make her importunate and reckless. If we supply her in moderation, with stimulants that do not vitiate her, she remains subordinate and harmless. It is our improper administrations, that rouse her into phrenz), and place her on the throne of our intel- lect, a drunken and desolating fury.. As moral beings, we should oppose the motives of the soul, to the desires of the body; the spirit to the flesh; the pains which come from inordinate indulgence, to the pleasures of the indulgence. As rational beings, wc should observe, what do us harm, and what do not: and proscribe the former, while we tolerate the latter; which, from being substitutes, become preventives. Herz then is the spot, where reason and the moral sense should make their stand: the defile where the friends of Temperance should marshal their forces; the pass-Thermopylae, where they should meet the conflict, and struggle for the victory—the triumph of the sentiments of the soul, over the propensities of the body? Of the various salutary stimulants, i may briefly mention tea an£ coffee, cider, beer and the milder wines, most if not aH of which, may be safely and conveniently employed, when stimulants are ne^ ccssary to promote the activity of owr systems, and will render more pernicious drinks unnecessary. Few constitutions,.however. require the aid, even of these, much less of Anient Spirits,, which should be proscribed, outlawed and banished forever, from the catalogue of our daily drinks. He who excludes this, is in com- parative safety,—he who drinks it, knows not the boar when his ruin commences. He may, it is true, escape Its desolations- but he plays a deep and desperate game, on which he stakes his health his fortune, his character, and the happiness of all who glory fe his distinction, or hang upon his skirts for support and protection ,nd what does he gain, for these mightv and fearful risks* tht ^oar and vanishing stimulation of a Hnss of grog * ''he cause; which g:ve activity to the propensity for ■timafejjr,.. ■7 Tije many and diversified. Some are moral, others physical. A part are universal, but the greater numher are local and special; operating in particular places, or on certain groups of society. It is to these causes, that the friends of Temperance should direct their attention. Prevention should be the object: drunkenness is seldom cured, but has often been averted; and will continue to dis- appear, in the ratio in which its causes are laid open and rooted out. Habitual drinking of Ardent Spirits is the firs; and greatest cause of Intemperance which I present for your con/mhalion. While I assert the necessity for stimulation,, I will equ . iy assert, that ex- cept for aged persons, who have coniirmed habit* of'daily drinking, the use of Ardent Spirits is superfluous and generally prejudicial, ■even whtn taken in moderate quantities. The ordinary stimulants, physical and moral, which act upon ua m Tjeclety, are sufficient, especially for boys and young men, whose systems are more exci* table, than those of older persons. It has been said, however, that the daily but moderate use of Ardent Spirits, by young men, is at least safe, and may sometimes do good, by satisfying their curiosi- ty, and generating the indifference, which comes from familiarity. All this is false and fatal. Physicians well know, that the repeti- tion of a stimulant increases the desire for its action, and calls for augmentation of the dose. Moreover,- the comparative absence of drunkenness in the respectable society of Friends, where daily drinking was never tolerated, is conclusive against the theory. A few weeks since, there died, in Cincinnati, a mem er of that socie- ty, who, for several years, had been the only intemperate person, bOrn to such membership, in the city, although the society is con- siderably numerous, and much diversified as to the sources of emi- gration. This single fact is worth a volume of theories. Dinner and supper parties promote Intemperace. I am aware, and admit the fact with pleasure, that the laws which prescribe drinking at these parties, have much relaxed; and that no one is now, as in former times, compelled to drink. But drinking is ex- pected; and to go beyond the limits of what is called a puritanical sobriety, is no discredit. It is undeniable, therefore, that they en- courage Intemperance; especially large evening parties of gentle- men only. I am far from wishing to propose their abolishment; "but more reliance might safely be placed on intellectual stimuli., in literary communities; and Ardent Spirits should be banished, for the sake of example, not less, than the digni'y and temper- ance of the distinguished men who generally compose those cob loquial parties. Gambling must not be overlooked, in scanning the causes of In* temperance. It is chieflv operative in tow?-, no ' ciHes. '''very naming house is a centre of fluxion, for the idle and th©«e xvba 3 relish dissolute associations, not less than those who find'a morbid dclignt in tiie chances oi the game. Couit. the number of those wi.o irequent gaining houses, as actors and spectators, in our towns and cities, be presented aggregately, it would make society shud- der, fhey arc all candidates lor drunkenness. Drinking is the inseparable habit of every gaming table; and drinking to excess, at such a spot, is no discredit—hut the reverse. It is the order of the da), the fashion ol the time and place, the spirit of the age; Toe rule is, "drink;"' the penalty o< its violation, contempt and ridi- cule. Idleness is a fruitful soil for habits of Intemperance. Man is an indolent animal. By nature he loves repose. Exertion is a forced state: the otispring ol necesssitv, or the instigation of some pas- sion, more powerful than the love of ease. Children, although constitutionally ucuvc, in tho puicuit vf amusements, are averse to labor, and require stimulation and discipline, to form habits of industry. I have been amazed to observe, how little fathers and mothers are aware of these truths; or, if aware of them, how lit- tle they are governed by the conviction. On this point, admoni- tion is more necessary to the rich than the poor. Among the latter, children are oiten obliged to work for food and cloth- ing—among the former, it is not uncommon, to see them grow up in ease and idleness. , Youth is the era of liie in which our habits art formed; and lit who grows up in indolence and riches, may live and die in idleness and poverty. VV hen extravagance and dissipa- tion have squandered his inheritance, even the stimulus of wan& may not break his established t.ahite. 1 his subject is of such deep interest, to all ol us who are parents, that I cannot refrain from dwelling on it a moment longer. Industry, promotes the health and bodily growth of children: Indolence, impairs, both. Industry, renders their studies easy and pleasing:. Indolence, makes them truants. Industry, is a substitute for genius: Indolence, renders genius ineffective. Industry, preserves our inheritance: Indolence* squa' ders it away. Industry, inspires society with confidence; mdolence, repels its confidence. Industry, provides for casuahies: Indolence, renders us helpless under them. Industry, makes provision for old age: Indolence, loads it with cares and embarrassments* Industry, provides for our children: #/«e», fails to do this, limits their opportunities, bktf& their ff pfospeete, and, when we die, leaves them dependent on a heartless' world. Industry, gives us the means of charitable and patriotic donation: idleness, prevents our co-operating in works of beneficence, and inflicts on us the character of sordidness. Industry, contributes to give us long life, while it condenses in* to a short one, the fruits of many years: Idleness, abridges life, and renders the longest unproductive of happy results.—Finally, Industry, has transformed this vast and beautiful region, into a cultivated and populous country;—so abundant in comforts, and so noble in its public works, that when abroad, one is proud to say, in the manner of an ancient Roman, "I am a citizen of Ohio;" Idleness, would have left it a thinly peopled wilderness, without developed resources, destitute of the arts of civilized life, and in* habited by a few helpless adventurers; still grappling witblndians and beasts of prey, on the very spot where the eminent represent tatives of a million of freemen, are deliberating on the public good S In no respect, can indolence be the parent of temperance, virtue or prosperity. All its tendencies are to vice, The idler is a prey to every folly. None is so much exposed to tempta- tion: Nene yields himself up with so little resistance. He is the sport of circumstances. He walks into the snare, because he is too lazy to go round it: He suffers the net to descend upon him, rather than raise his finger to turn it aside. If any thing moves him, it is the love of dissolute pleasures; in the midst of which he luxuriates, and whence, having once entered, he seldom has the virtuous energy to return. Fashion is a powerful cause of Intemperance, It is not limited to any particular class of the community, or state of society; tttough most operative in cities and in the highest circles. Fashjoii is looted in that principle of human nature, which makes "man am imitative animal;" and involves that sentiment, which leads him to respect public opinion. Few persons, therefore, are rai-ed above the influence of fashion, and that few, are none the better for their forced and unsocial elevation. It is one thing, however, to set fashion at defiance; another to become its victim. Fashion, to a greater or less extent, is, the taste and opinions of the world embodied. It is, therefore, always entitled to attention, if not to respect. It is characteristic of good sense and sqund principle, to examine into the requirements of fashion, and conform to them, as far as they accord with nature, propriety and convenience. It is the vain and frivolous, only, that yield a blind submission. Good faste rejects all that is absurd or ridiculous: bad taste swallows the whole without examination. Fashion exerts tye gieaf<# a 1*0 domination over young minds; and in youth, acts upon both sexes, in nearly the same degree. Education being equal, the weakest minded are the greatest devotees of fashion; but in early life, it imparts delight to every grade of intellect, though m varying de- grees. Young persons, are not aware of the delusions of fashion, and should be admonished, against yielding to its absurd demands. 1 do not know a harder master. It has no heart, no conscience, no stability. It governs without law, and sentences without a hearing. Its changes, like epidemic diseases, come and go, when we least expect them; and often with a social devastation which might carry out the metaphor. No perspicacity can foresee its caprices, or prepare to meet them. The edicts of the morning, are reversed before the evening lamp of pleasure and dissipation is extinguiehod. That which it lanrts in-tiny it scorns tfl-morrOW, and ridicules those who joined in the praise. Such is its charac- ter, and this character should be made known to our sons. They should be warned, never to deliver themselves into its power. If once reduced to servitude, they are on the road to ruin. If the fashion of the club or coterie to which they belong, says, lldrink .'" they cannot refuse; if fashion says, "prefer Ardent Spirits to tea or coffee, or fermented liquors," they acknowledge the preference; if fashion says, "pour into the fatal chalice, the sweets and spices, that honey over the poison," they comply; if fashion says, "drink again, and again repeat the dralt, raise your spirits, elevate your soul, exalt your feelings, send abroad >our heated fancy, become 01 believe yourself a genius, mount into the clouds and look down with smiles and contempt, on the plodders that walk the valleys of the earth;"—you drink, you rise, and you fall headlong, to grovel, in scorn and infamy, beneath the footsteps of those whom you despised. Such is the issue of a life of fashionable drinking. Time was when fashion, on this point, governed our young men In the spirit of a tyrant. It was held, that drinking and riot are indications of talent, and a sentence of contempt, rested on those who declined to participate to excess. The spirit which presided over those convivial parties, pronounced all ♦who held back, to be nothing more, than nature's down right common places__Drones or bigots. Dunces, if they would not drink to stupidity; smart fei:.,ws, i thej did. I can recollect when this test of genius was more relied on than at present. It reminds one of the ancient or- deal for witchcraft.—If f e yung man would not drink freely, he was a fool—if he did, he became a brute:— Verily, a sad dilemma. I : m happy to know, that nobler views of the character and des- tiny of youth are begimi, g to prevail; and trust that our sons of gemus, will, so n, havr i> vp tier ^0„ph. fo manifest their supe- r H'-v-rr-ents, in sou*e oiuei riiowie than scenes of dissipation and uproar. , • 11 Sunday drinking is a fruitful source of Intemperance. He wh<^ appropriates the Sabbath, to the society of taverns and coffee houses, is already vitiated in his moral taste, and ends his career a sot. He there dissipates a part of his fortuue, or of the earnings of the week, and with it, go his habits of application, and his pow- ers of self denial. Better were it for such an one, that he should be altogether denied the privilege of a day of rest; for he might, then, escape this deep contamination. As a general fact, the peo- ple of the United States, are pre-eminent in their observance of the Sabbath; and long may they continue to merit this distinction! The nation, which dedicates a seventh part of its time, to retire- ment from the cares and contentions of business—which recurs at stated ofc iods to a sense of its moral accountability—which devotes itself, on the Sabbath, to religious exercices, and the study of books of sound morality-—wkwJi aooombloe, at the -end_ of every week, around the family fireside, and purifies the domestic rela| tions, by imbuing them with appropriate devotional sentiments and moral feelings—is in tke way of duty, which is the way of hap- piness. About such a people, there is an atmosphere of moral and social grandeur, which must repel a host of crimes and follies. Let me, then, exhort such of you as are guardians and masters, to look well to the conduct of your children and wards, on the Sabbath day. Let innocent amusements be invented—let attrac- tive and suitable books be placed before them—let fathers re- main at home, and instruct them in the first principles of religion, and the simple precepts of moral and social duty:—-Above all, let Sunday 9chools be encouraged, patronized and extended; not merely as scenes of religious exercise, but as seminaries of literature, religion and morality, united. If not sent to such schools, many poor children never learn to read, but grow up in ignorance; and before they attain to manhood, fall into most of the vices, which beset the footsteps of those who spend the Sabbath in idleness, and in wanderings among the haunts of dissipation and profligacy. But it is not the poor, only, who may be benefitted by Sabbath Schools. To the rich, through a certain age, they are scarcely less beneficial. They diversify the existence of the child, and reconcile him to the salutary restraints, of the day of rest and meditation. They connect his literature with religion, and the principles of moral obligation; they civilize and soften his heart. I know of no institution, which might be made to exert so much power, in the great work of moral elevation—of none, so worthy the attention of those who labor in the mighty enterprise of ennobling a whole nation! As a means of preventing Intemperance, Sunday Schools, indeed, deserve unlimited confidence. I am aware that children do not of- ten, contract habits, of drinking; but when suffered to go at larger IS iJn the Sabbath, they form those habits of vice and vicious Compaq fcr si ip; which, as tbey grow up, too often lead directly and pow- erfully, to dissipatioa and drunkenness. Volumes would be necessary, to delineate the calamitous effects of Intemperance. Ardent Spirits are a poison. A fit of drunkenness, is a parox- ysm of acute disease, which, arising from any other cause, would be regarded with dismay. Habitual drinking generates chronic maladies, which, ultimately, extend to all the Organs of the body. It inflames the stomach, the liver and the brain; which are, final- ly, disorganized. It poisons the whole nervous system; disor- ders the senses, and palsies the muscles. Thus the entire man, is at length transformed, from a condition of health and vigour, to a state of loathsome disease: and the grave is, at last, the only puri- fier. In the mind, the sad effeets of Intemperance are equally con- spicuous. It impairs the power of observation, weakens atten- tion, renders the memory treacherous, excites the imagination, and subverts the understanding. Neither the observations nor the judgments of one in this condition, are to be trusted; they may be correct, but are always liable to be false. Even Madness may be the offspring of the habitual use of Ardent Spirits; although deep intoxication may have been seldom perpe- trated. Incessant irritation of the brain, at last perverts the reason, and sets up the creations of fancy, for the realities of obser- vation. The perceptions become disordered, and the individual is delivered over, to strange and terrific phantasies. In this con- ditton* he is successively the victim of every kind of delusion, and exerts himself on those around him, as he would upon strangers and enemies. His friends are transformed into foes,- and the dearest objects of his former love, become the prey of vindictive and murderous designs. Unable to distinguish between right and wrong, and, mistaking the creations of his own shattered intellect* for actual facts, he acts accordingly, and commits outrages the most shocking to humanity. In this melancholy condition, which ■"bears but little resemblance to a tit of intoxication, and frequently occurs after a suspension Of the practice of drinking, he is actually insane; and should no longer be held responsible, for his actions. •This view of the case has not, however, been generally taken; and hence the history of our jurisprudence, furnishes examples of pun- ishment, not compatible with the prevailing wisdom and mildness of our pen 1 laws. Our criminal courts have confounded the in- sanity of drunkards, with their fits of intoxication, from which it is dist.net: and punished the offences of both states,in the same man- aer* A more searching analysis, would have prevented such ^ ra arrori The mental alienation of habitual drinkers, is of that kind, which brings them under the judicial maxim, that he who is insane shall not be punished. The proper place for such an one, is a hospital, instead of a prison; and the time must come, when he will find that destination; Our courts of justice are not at liberty, to sit in judgment, on the remote causes of insanity, and discrimi- hate among its varieties. The man who is non compos mentis from disease, however produced, is no longer an accountable being, and should be confined, but not punished* Even the delirium of a ft of drunkenness, should be plead in mitigation of punishment; for the individual often does that, when intoxicated, from which he would recoil with horror, in his sober moments; and this should be the test. But drunkenness itself, not now recognized by the law, as a crime, should be punished. It is an offence against the peace and dignity of society; against • the wife and children, who may, by this practice, be reduced to beggary, and thrown upon the public charity for support. The drunkard himself, may come to the same end; and, finally, subsist for years, on the earnings of the industrious and temperate. Hence it is, that society acquires the same right to punish drunkenness, that it can claim to punish any other outrage. It inflicts legal penalties on no one, who does it no injury. Blasphemy and irre* ligion, it leaves to a higher tribunal; while it punishes the slight- est and every aggression, upon its interest and happiness. Drunk- enness in all its stages, is one of these, and should be met with ap- propriate penaltiesi The personal rights of those who practice it, should be restricted; their political consequence abridged; their children placed under, guardians, and their property transferred to trustees. By the fear of these penalties, thousands would be deterred from becoming intemperate; while the friends and fami- lies, of those Who might still drink to excess, Would be screened, in part at least, from the calamities, which, in the absence of all pro- tecting legislation, never fail to overtake them. The perverting effects of Intemperance on the heart, are not less, than on the head. It transforms equanimity into petulance; aggravates impatience into irascibility; engenders suspicion; blasts the domestic affections; and converts a good husband and father, into a capricious and cruel scourge. It generates a taste for dis- solute society, with its diversified obscenities; vulgarizes the feel- ings; inflames every resentment; introduces the language of prd- fanity, and ends, by establishing habits of falsehood and treachery. On our actions and pursuits, the influence of Intemperance is equally deleterious. It speedily breeds an indifference to busi- ness, which at length rises to ruinous neglect. A total disregard of property not uncommonly ensues, and the earnings of former vars-ar"! speedily dissipated. Economy is replaced by prodigal^ Hi ty, and the maxims by which property is acquired and preserved',' are trampled under foot. In this reckless condition, the attractions of the gaming table, too often begin to exert their influence, and the victim of Intem- perance, thus acquires another impulse on the road to ruin. Gaming, as we have seen, is a cause of drunkenm ss, but in towns and cities, it is equally a consequence of that habit. Noth- ing, indeed is more common, than to see the drunkard become a gambler; and at last fall a prey to their united coi.sequences. He who adds gambling to drunkenness, renounces all the inte- resting objects of life. He no longer goes abroad to gaze on the beauty and loveliness of nature; to traverse the fields or forests, inhale their fragrance, and invigorate his mind by the contempla- tion of their ceaseless variety. When the setting sun fires the whole Heavens with beams of red and yellow light, which dazzle and delight the eye of taste, he is already in the 'den of thieves;' •and feasts his distempered sight, on the colours of his cards. When the stars come forth in beauty, to illuminate the clear blue canopy, and elevate the lover of nature into feelihgs of poetry and devo- tion, Ae sits toiling with inflamed and watery eyes, amidst smoking lamps, whose oil is consumed, before his guilty passion is satisfied. When the morning dawns, he staggers forth, but not to refresh himself in its balmy breezes, or enjoy the songs of animated nature that float upon them; for he is insensible to the whole. Even the purple splendors which clothe the east in glory, fall unheeded on his stupid eyeballs. Still less does he watch the rising sun, and* with the great poet, exclaim— 'Hail, holy light, offspring of Heaven, first born!1 No! ah, no! He delights to dwell in darkness; the light which cheered him once, cheers him no longer; it displays his shame- he skulks along narrow alleys, to avoid the companions of his vir- tuous days; and seeks his desolate home to, play the drunken des- pot, or prepare, by a few hours of disturbed and morbid slumber. for another night of debauch and knavery. Thus he sacrifices to his guilty pleasures every elevated enjoyment, arising from the view or the studyof nature; and equally alienates his heart, from all communion with Nature's God. . ' ra In the same degree, he loses the gratifications which flow from the study of books. His mind is not enriched by the lessons of science: his language is not refined by works of literature- his feelings are never fired by the sublime and thrilling examples of He is equally estranged, from the rational gratification, imparted hy he knowledge and practice of the usefhl arts. HeTi^o tant, or neglectful, of every kind of profession* skill, except ^ 15 of his new and despicable calling; for the debaucheries of which, he foolishly barters away the dignity and happiness, which flow so olenteously from a participation in the useful pursuits of hu- man life. Still further, he loses the enjoyments of virtuous society, and accepts for the companionship of the high minded and faithfuj friends of his youth, the treacherous and drunken associates of the gaming table. Thus it is, that whatever may be his winnings at play, and how- ever his constitution may bear up under habitual stimulation, the vict m of drink and cards, inevitably relinquishes those enjoyments, which a man of unperverted taste and sound moral feeling, would never put at hazard, much less forever renounce. These negative losses, however, are of but little moment, com- pared with the positive desolations of heart and character, which his indulgences generate. Thus, it is well known that the drunken gamester comes, at length, to view the obligations of religion, and the attributes of the Deity, with indifference or disgust; and at last surrenders himself up, to habits of unmitigated profanity. Cunning and knavery, are equally the offspring of his evil pas- sions. No man plays with another, without having the conviction. that he is that other's equal. Whenever, therefore, he finds himseli a loser, he naturally concludes, that his opponent is a cheat, and, forthwith resolves, himself, to cheat in his own defence. Thus, all who lose, are tempted to defraud; and beginning as men of honor, though not of temperance, they terminate their career as knaves and swindlers. Broils, assassinations and duels, are other fruits of this tree of death. Drinking arouses the angry passions, and losses generate resentments and revenge. Hence personal combats^ as fierce and furious, as those among wild beasts, suddenly spring up: The more sober and powerful grow violent, the drunken are overthrown. and the floor is drenched in blood: or, if revenge postpones its fatal blow, the parties at length meef, on what might be, ironically. called the field of honor, and society, perhaps, has the good for- tune, to be rid, at the same moment, of two of its monsters. But this happy result,—happy for the surviving; dreadful, in- deed, for those who thus enter eternity, covered with unrepented crimen—does not often occur; and a more protracted catastrophe is in reserve, for the martyr of vice. His business being sus pended, both his fortune and his good name, are at length destroyed. For a time he may supply his wants, by an encouraging course oi success; but this only serves to determine rfls fate; for it feeds his cipidity, and deepens the awful fascination, which binds him to his wicked pursuits. At length,histutelary goddess, capriciously withdraws her smiles, and bestows them on his opponent. Bnf •i6 his prudence is now annihilated, his understanding impaired, Ms" appetites perverted, his passions inflamed, his will subjugated to his dreadful propensities; and with the glasi in oue hand and his cards in the other, he drinks and plays still deeper and deeper. When the victim of drunkenness and gambling, is, an insulated being, the ruin thus induced, is less affecting. But it too often happens, that he is both husband and father; and having expended the proceeds of his days of business, and sold, for the wages of ini- quity, the venerated heritage of his fathers; having cheated his guilty companions; and, with lies and deceit reduced his credulous friends to poverty; he comes, at last, like a famishing beast, to fix his fangs on the hard and scanty earnings of his wife and children. Regardless of the vows of wedded love; dead to the sobs and en, treaties of the beautiful, but faded furm, that kneels before him; insensible to the fate or feelings ot the innocent children that cling to his knees, and in voices of love and obedience, beseech ' him to remain at home; he seizes, without remorse, the little fund designed to purchase bread for him and them, and prepares to es* cape to the scene of his vices. In vain do the tears of anguish fall upon his robber-hand, or sighs and prayers ascend up to Heaven - unmoved by the cries of love and horror, he is intent on nothing but his booty, and looks not back, till he sees it lodged on the fatal board. But his days are numbered. His race is run. The hand of death is upon him. A raging fever kindles up in his corrupt and cankered system, and ends his mad career: or phrenzy seizes on bis "burning brain," and his own. arm raises the poison-bowl, or wields the dagger, that consigns him to the tomb, and leaves his family the heritage of his disgrace, Younc men ! shut not your eyes to the hideous aspects of drunken- ness, here dimly shadowed out. Let them alarm you. Walk not in the paths which are beset with such spectres. Frequent only the abodes of Temperance. I have not described what has, but occasionally, befallen a young man in the lowest walks »f life. Not one of you can say, can truly say, that he may not become the ridiculous, the humiliated, the scorned victim of drunkenness. Therefore, drink no Ardent Spirits. Make it the rule of your lives* If none of you drink—all will escape the drunkard's fate: whoever drinks, may sooner or later be lost. 1 warn you affectionately in the midst of this respectable assembly—within these holy walls—I exhort you solemnly, to distrust your firmest resolves against drink- mg too much: rely only on the resolution, that you will never drink He who never drinks .has little temptation to resist, and is safe* tne habitual drinker nfust combat a desire, which every day be' comes more importunafc, and combat it successfully, or he per ishe?. The struggle is for victory or death! the habit, or the eav and animated form of opening manhood, must be destroyed 1/ > i? you drink from fashion, how unspeakable your folly: if from de: sire, .low appalling your danger! A young man, perhaps an only son, loaded with the honors of the first seminaries of his country, and about to ascend the theatre of that country's noblest opera? tions, engaged in the daily ingurgitation of gin or whisky! what a sorrowful spectacle! what a gr >ss absurdity! Claiming the ap- plause of the good and great—but trammelled i. the habits of the degraded and sensual! Aspiring to fortune, influence and fame,—~ but yielding a voluntary submission to the tyranny of a vitiated appetite! In the proud consciousness of cultivated intellect, aimost enrolling himself with the angels that never die,—but stooping to drink of that, which sinks him below the brutes that perish, and are no more! Fathers! permit one of your own number, to speak to you with freedom on this momentous subject. Look not with approbation or indifference, on the first departure of your sons, from the line of sobriety. Strive, both by precept and example, to inspire them with a horror of Intemperance. Wash your hands of their ruinous indulgences, by an earnest and affectionate protest. Keep your skirts unpolluted with their blood, by pointing out the destruction, which awaits their erring footsteps. You desire them to be good and great men, or at least, virtuous, respectable and happy men; let your desires lead to active efforts; urge them onward in the paths of Temperance, and frown, with paternal indignation, upon every deviation. You give up your days to labour and anxiety, yoar nights to watchfulness and meditation, that you may earn a fortune, and establish a name. Before either is acquired, you find Jkhe sun of your existence declining; and you turn your departing eyes, upon those who are destined to inherit the products of your toil. Would you not wish them to be worthy of the heritage? Would it not embitter your last, lingering hours, to know and feel that your estates would be speedily dissipated in hotels and ga- ming houses? that your very name would become a byword and a reproach! yet such will be the issue of your protracted lar bo-!rs, your deep schemes of gain or ambition, your bright antici- pations, and your ravishing hopes, if the sons, who are to succeed you, sink into habits of Intemperance, [Mothers! Yju have a still deeper interest in this matter; for you suffer still heavier affliction, from the drunkenness of your sons. In what other way, short of committing robbery or murder^and drunkenness may lead to both—rould your happiness be so rnor- tally wounded? On whom, but them, do you rely, when their fathers are mingled with the dust? But what reliance can be placed on a son addicted to Intemperance—.vith its disgusting conse- quences—idleness, extravagance, disobedience and treachery! Better for yoa, far better, wpuld it be, to stand alone or> thjr earth. * 1*8 exposed, like the last tree of the mountain, to every tempest,—fin- allied, unnoticed, unpitied and desolate—than to rest under the calamity inflicted by a drunken and reckless son; with no husband to interpose the protecting hand of conjugal love, or wield the rod of paternal authority. Fathers and Mothers! You have daughters, the tender pledges of your virtuous love. They are flowers of the prairie; whose un- folding beauties, you have beheld with a delight which no com- pass oi language could express. In the feeble hours of infancy, you have watched away the longest and the dreariest nights, over the cradle in which they lay scorched with fever, or writhing in convul- sions. You have given them the first lessons, oi instruction-^ on- ducted and guarded their tottering footsteps in the open air—t e- fended them from every assault of vice and vi« lenct—and sought for them the ablest teachers in all the branches ot useful know ledge, and every accomplishment of mind and body. You have laboured to fashion thejr sentiments and manners,after the best models of the age. You have led them with pride, over the threshhold of socie- ty—and perhaps resumed your suspended relations with its gayer circles, to accompany them, to defend them from treachery, to guide them by your wisdom, and to drink deeply of a gratification, which, in the world's wide waste, flows not from a purer fountain. But to what good end have you done all this, if your daughter must be exiled from your arms, to the loathsome companionship of a sot? If she is doomed to leave the happy and cheerful paternal mansion, venerable by every early association—its books, its little decorations by the hand of domestic taste, its enlightened visitors, and its thrilling scenes of family affection,—for the dreary and echoing walls of the drunkard's house, to wither, in solitude, a transplanted and neglected flower? Parents! Ae you value the happiness of your daughters, I call upon you to discourage the Intemperance of young men. As the number increases, the chances of consigning the blooming objects of your love, to the society and authority of drunkards, will*like- wise increase. Discourage Intemperance, not only in your own sons, but in the sons of your friends and neighbors; who, in the order of nature, must become the husbands and companions- good or bad—of the daughters, whose destiny is to fix the charac- ter of your declining years. Do all that you can, in this respect; and if fate should at last return upon you a brokenhearted daugh- ter, to die in the chamber which gave her birth, tie consciousness of having performed your duty, will console vou under this, the last dreadful calamity, which can fall upon old'age. To all who can realize the horrible consequences of Intempe- rance, it must be astonishing that there arc men. ax1 foot c ' who wield the wand of fashion, at whose movements we see manners and customs, rise and fall, as if by enchantment;—these Xtie they, who govern the destinies of the multitude,-—who wield 3D i& power greater than that of the throne.' From their lips proceed precept^, which all beneath them adopt as rules of conduct: by their examplo, will the actions of the nation be regulated. These are the men, among whom reformation should commence—where sobriety, and self denial, and purity of manners, like purity and propriety of language, should be cherished and perpetuated* Their precepts should fall upon the millions below them, 'Pure, as the fleeces of descending snow!' They should stand forth, as bright examples of Temperance and virtue; as burning and shining lights in the firmament of society^ to guide the benighted footsteps of those who have no light in themselves. When the wealth and knowledge of a people, lend themselves to the practice or countenance of vice, a moral over- throw is at hand. \nother Phaeton ha> ascended the chariot of the sun, and great social desolation may be expected. While the men of wealth and the men of letters, preserve the integrity of* their manners, the national dignity is safe, and the virtue of the people uncontaminated. The stream which is pure and un- polhited in its fountains, can never afterwards be poisoned in its depths. Again, I say, It those who wield the sceptre of moral and social power., look well to themselves. They are models for imitation—their footsteps are trodden over, by long trains of fol- lowers—their conversations are rehearsed—tbeir maxims of life spread abroad upon the breath of the people—they live not for themselves only; for their lives modify, if they do not mould, the destiny of the countless numbers, less favored than themselves.—. If their example is bad, they inflict upon the age to which they belong, a curse, which descends to the third and fourth generations; if good, they exalt the natio.->, and perpetuate its happiness. Nations like individuals have had their rise and fall. But why should they? The individual man has his day of bodily perfec- tion, then declines, and descends to the tomb. Such is the law of his being. Human wisdom may prolong, but cannot perpetuate his existence. But nations are not under such a fiat; and, stilly they rise and fall. To assign all the causes of these vicissitudes^ would require the analysis of their whole history. It may how- ever be averred, in general terms, that they rise by their virtues and sink by their vices and follies. Without wisdon and virtue no nation ever rose: with them, no nation would ever sink. Every vice is an element of national decay. Multiply vices, and, at a greater ratio, you augment the tendency to decline. They are So many modes of diseased action, in the great social body; which may still remain sound in parts, but the hand of moral death is jpon it. Its perpetual verdure begins to fade; its fruits fall, un- ripe, and bitter, from the. boughs; limb after limb, is blighted, and f'.imbles to the earth: the trunk itself ceases to grow, and becomes 21 hollow at the heart; but it lives on, a perishing, though, never dy- ing victim, or lisease ml lesoki on! Such i»as been the growth and decline of nations; and such it will be, till they learn wisdom and walk no more in the paths of folly. Let oo one prosume to treat this subject with scorn or levity. I would ask such an one, if sueh there be, to say whether national degradation and dwnfall, would not come from multiply- ing to a great extent an> single class of vbious men? The num- ber of those who sacrifice every thing to the pleasures of a lux- urious table, or the hazards of the gaming table;—of those who labor to repress the spread of intelligence and religion;—of those who employ unhallowed means, to encompass wealth or attain political power;—of those who encourage and indulge in idleness ;— of those who *rink themselves into sots ana iumb brutes! Whit, I would, again, inquire, would befall the nation, in which either of these vfces might become universal? Why, it would sink! Though raised so high in the moral firmament, as to attract the gaze, and guide the footsteps of the whole earth, it would fall, and fall to rise no more! What then are the duties of oatriotism? the dictates of benefi- cence? the requirements of religion? the demands of self interest, prooerly understood? To oppose wisdom to folly, and virtueto Vice: To explore the fountains of crime, and dry them up: To throw across the pathway of e^erv vice, a solid phalanx of vir- tuous men, who should say, at the beginning of its career, 'thus far sbalt thou go, but no farther:' To look, like prudent physicians, to the forming stage of the moral disease, and arrest its develop- ment: To single out the infected, and brand them with a mark, or exclude them from society; that the sound may not be corrupted by their contact! Bv doing this, we shall rest the destinies or out young and beloved country, on its morals cemented by wisdon Such a foundation will be imperishable. On it we should rai the pyramid of our liberties. Let us inscribe on its walls, tot motto— Temperance! Industry! Intelligence! It will thenEdefy°tne revolutions which have prostrated those of3 other lands; and endure from generation to generation; a proud monument of that national grandeur, which passeth not away like •-dream, but shines brighter and brighter, unto the perfect day? FINIS. 1231 r-tx iiiit)iKr;:'f'Xs:::'i..r.i N.L.M