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THE LAST DRUNKARD.

E stood the last-the last of all

HE

The ghastly, guilty band

Whose clanking chains and cry of thrall
Once rang throughout the land.

Alone he stood-the outcast wretch,
Left only with his pain;

Of each boon friend could memory fetch
To thought not one again.

He stood-but where was now the host,
The mighty, giant throng,

That late, in columns to the lost,

Had moved with gibe and song?

The hoary yet dishonored head,

And manhood's dark locks-where?

And woman, too, by error led

That broad way to despair?

Where were they all? The sweeping blast
Had burnt their life-blood up;
Health, reason, honor died, as passed

The simoon of the cup.

And he alone-alone! sad glance
Threw hurriedly around,

And earth and sky held mocking dance,
And upward came a sound-

A sound of mortal agony;
Upon his ear it fell—

A bitter and undreamed of cry,
With mingled laugh of hell,

As if were centred in that yell
All of the misery

Which broken hearts alone can tell,

Which God alone can see.

It calls him, and, probation past.
"Ye fiends! I come!

He shouts
Open, foul pit, and take the last—
The last doomed slave of rum!"

A NEW PARTY NEEDED.

WE

JOHN B. FINCH.

E have determined to mass the voters around the prin ciple of prohibition and take possession of the legislative and executive departments of the Government, enact this principle into statutes and enforce them. We are not seeking a balance of power, but we are organized to advocate principle and thrash all parties who do not accept it. We are seeking office only as it will enable us to advance the principle. We seek to pull down the old parties only so we can get the material to build a new party. We believe that if we can prove that the new party is a necessity all intelligent and conscientious men who favor the principle will

come to us.

Early in Colonial history the men who had charge of the Government became alarmed at the liquor traffic because it debauched the citizens and endangered the Government. As early as 1856, eleven States had passed prohibitory laws making the sale of liquor a misdemeanor in ten States and a felony in one State.

In 1856 another issue came up. Slavery became aggressive. During the struggle pulpits were empty because ministers were in the army. Schools were closed or taught by girls because the teachers were fighting on one side for the Union, on the other for the Confederacy. But who ever heard of a barroom being closed for want of a bartender?

The bad men of a nation always make the necessities of a nation their opportunity for gain, aud when the war was over there were five times as many saloons as when it commenced. Five prohibitory laws had been repealed. And when the people went to the dominant parties and asked, When will you settie this question? they answered, Not yet! Reconstruction was now the great question. The temperance people said, Hurry up! but the politicians gave political promises to settle the question.

There is no fever

An issue is never settled by dodging. without a cause. There is no disturbance in the body politic without a cause. When great masses assemble demanding better conditions, the man who says it is the work of a demagogue is a political idiot. It means that there is fever in this country and the cause that has produced the fever must be found and a proper remedy applied, or the patient will take the nostrum of some political quack, and we shall be in a worse condition than now. The old parties would not if they could and could not if they would cure this disease, and, therefore, we must find a party that can and will. They are turning away from every vital question, and the inaction of statesmen is the opportunity of demagogues. We are not asking them of the past. We know what they have done. We are only anxious to know what they will do, and are, therefore, asking them, What of the morrow?

To-day the liquor traffic is a business created by law, in which a man with less money, less brains, less character, can make more money than in any other business. It is the only

business in which a disreputable character is at a premium. No business experience is required for success. A man needs only to know enough to set up a bottle, be sufficiently versed in mathematics to make change, and have muscle enough to bounce a fellow when he gets noisy or doesn't settle. What is the result? Over 200,000 retail liquor-dealers and over 150,000 men who retail liquor in saloons and have no other business.

Here is your prohibitory law. It is a non-partisan child. It

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needs sustenance, support, defence.

We ask the Republican

party, Is this your child? and are answered, No. The Democratic party disowns it. What is it? Non-partisan. Midway between something, it is nothing. It needs a party behind it to sustain it. Stay in the old party? What for? We have stayed and you have crucified us. There is not a politician in either of the old parties who is not a dog before the organized votes of the liquor traffic.

What is best? There are two old dogs. One has a bone and the other wants it. He could fight for it, but he stands watching, thinking that the other dog will have to cough and drop the bone. So neither of the old parties hope to win by a manly fight for principle, but depend entirely on the blunders of their opponent. We stand facing this necessity to rid our land of this organized, defiant, rebellious liquor traffic, and the old parties will not, can not, do it. We must close up our ranks, keep step with the music of "Home, sweet home," and press forward to a certain victory.

THE PRICE OF HIGH LICENSE.

A. J. WATERHOUSE.

WHAT is the price of a human life,

With its boundless power to will and do,

To gain the summit through earnest strife,
And ever the way of right pursue?
What is the price of its countless dreams,
Its days when hope's bright sunlight gleams?
And the rumseller says: "To further my schemes,
I bid one thousand dollars!"'

What is the price of the boy who stands
Noble and fair as a god of old,

Reaching to life his innocent hands,

Dreaming the dream that lips ne'er told?

What is his price, kind father, say?
What is his price, fond mother, I pray?
But the rumseller says: "To make him my prey,
I bid one thousand dollars!"

What is the price of the daughter who leans
On the arm which supports her, noble and fair,
A being of beauty, one of earth's queens,
Pure as a lily, glorious and rare?

What is her price? Oh, ask of thy heart,
Parent who loves her, whoever thou art!
But the rumseller says: "For her, in my mart
I bid one thousand dollars!"

What is the price of the men sunk low,
Fallen and lost ere the day is done?
The staggering wrecks who come and go?
The women once pure, whom now you shun?
What is the price of the boys who fell
Bartering their hopes of heaven for hell?
And the rumseller says: "To lure them well,
I gave one thousand dollars!"

THE NEED FOR A PROHIBITION PARTY.

WH

JOHN B. GOUGH.

HILE I do not believe that legal enactments are of greatest value unless there is a public sentiment to enforce them, and do believe that the public sentiment must be the result of moral suasion, I also believe that in prosecuting this needful work we shall constantly come against the barriers raised by the legal protection and, therefore, sanction now given to the liquor traffic, the prosperity of which depends always, in greater or less measure, on the ruin of all other kinds of prosperity. When others have said, in their

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