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THE NEW SLAVERY.
'HERE lives within our land to-day a greater slavery
Southern sky; Upheld by legal sanction, in America the free, Beneath its withering, damning curse a million victims
sigh. Like thirsty leeches, greater grown by that on which they feed, This leech upon our nation's life has
year; And claims the majesty of law for symbol of its greed, That makes the loyal heart stand still and strikes the soul
with fear. Yet, darker grows the night and deeper sink the weary, Hopeless, aching hearts in million breasts. From out the
gloom No ray of light their anxious gaze to cheer, and burdened,
dreary, Beyond all power of words to tell, beneath the awful doom Of Rum's dread sway they bow, and sorrow reigns supreme.
Yet, on yon ship there sails a valiant soldier of the Cross, Christ's gospel carrying to heathen lands, and thus we deem
It fit to damn at home and save abroad. But on the speed
To Afric's golden shore we send the deadly, damning brew
above; Ten thousand pulpits silent while this Moloch works his
will; A million Christian lips are saying, “Wanderer, God is
love; " A million Christian ballots do the behests of the still.
Before the Church's vestry door the licensed gate of hell,
Beside the schoolhouse and the home, against the hall of
While from yon towering steeple rings a sad and mournful
knell_ A hecatomb of ruined souls are cursing God and fate. Why stand ye silent, men of God? Hath terror struck you
dumb? Or wait ye for Jehovah's wrath to scourge you forth to
labor? Why put ye up the Lord's own prayer, “Thy kingdom,
Father, come, Then vote the devil's business in that he may damn your
neighbor? Has manhood lost its virtue in this hour of direst need,
When loyalty to God and home for faithful men is calling? Or will ye rise again in might, the bondman's call to heed,
And crush this greater slavery, so dreadful, so appalling? Oh, for another Samson, anointed of the Lord,
To tear this heathen temple down before our altar's fall! Oh, for a million loyal hands to buckle on the sword If need be, thus to save our land and heed the bondsman's
call. In vain we cry aloud to God to save our land and youth, While His anointed ministry keep back the living truth; In vain our agonizing prayers to heaven's arches swell, When with a righteous ballot we might close these gates of
FRANCES E. WILLARD.
E base our plea for prohibition on the principles set
have become household words among temperance women: No
legislature can bargain away the public health or the public morals. The people themselves can not do it, much less their servants. Government is organized with a view to their preservation and can not divest itself of the power to provide for them.
We had in the United States last year more than ten thousand murders and more than six thousand suicides, or an average of thirty murders a day, besides twelve monthly lynchings. Since 1867 these terrible “ takings off” have multiplied in proportion to the population at the rate of three to
The papers, not only from the metropolis itself but from Maine to California, would seem to indicate that murders are the staple product. We have the testimony of Judge Noah Davis, of New York City, twenty years on the bench, that ninety percentage of the crime is due to strong drink.
Any reasoning man who can put these facts together and then vote for license has the mind of a man without conscience, or without adequate knowledge, or with a serious twist in brain or conscience.
The fact is, “My people perish for lack of knowledge.' There is not a good man between the oceans who would not vote against throwing around the saloon the guarantees and safeguards of the municipality if he had studied the question with an honest desire to know whether it is better to be linked with the traffic, by accepting the bonus that it gives in order to have the law on its side, or squarely to vote against it, thus removing oneself from any connivance with the abomination, and then to try to carry out the intention of that vote as far as possible. That which the people have legalized they can render illegal, and it is their solemn duty before God and humanity to render the liquor traffic illegal.
We are coming upon new times. Man stands no longer alone in the arena as the central figure for whose sake parties are made; but a group is there, made up of man, woman, and child. The party whose very name proves that its purpose is the equal protection of them all and of the home that is to chem the dearest spot on earth, is the party that deserves to
win and carries in its heart the elements of power.
Over against the perfidy of the saloon to every interest that man, woman, and child hold dear, the Home Protection party (as some of us have called it long in loving hope) presents the picture of a perfect loyalty. Over against a democracy that does not democratize and a republicanism that leaves the republic at the mercy of the liquor traffic, the Home Protection party sets up its standard, inscribed : “Down with the dramshop, the brothel, the gambling den, and up with the Home!"
LAMENT OF THE WIDOWED INEBRIATE.
A. H. J. DUGANNE.
[Of these verses Longfellow said: “They are enough to immortalize
Thy bright and trusting smile,
Ere sorrow came, or guile;
And mine eyes looked into thine,
Was nestling close to mine,
young lips beaming bright,
Is flashing in my sight.
And the eye is strange to me,
When its memory turns to thee.
The night of grief and shame,
When with drunken ravings on my lips
To thee I homeward came.
And thy bosom wildly heaved,
Though thy heart was sorely grieved.
And thine eye grew dim and sad;
And the wine-cup drove me mad.
And thy ringing laugh was gone;
And still kept trusting on.
For the wine-cup made me wild,
And I cursed thee when they smiled.
But the fire was in my brain, And the curse of drink was in
heart To make my love a bane. 'Twas a pleasant home of ours, Mary,
In the springtime of our life, When I looked upon thy sunny face
And proudly called thee wife.
Before our cottage door;
I shall never see them more.
And no stone at thy head;
Sleeps in that lowly bed;