For the Panoplist.

ON THE GRADUAL AND INSID

PERANCE.

No. V.

No person ever became a drunkard, or a tippler, all at once. The descent to infamy and to hell, upon the fiery stream of intoxicating liquors, though often rapid, is not perpendicular. In almost every case, the progress, at first, is slow and imperceptible. Probably, not one hard drinker in a hundred entertained the least apprehension of danger, when he began to fall; and not one in fifty can, upon looking back, specify the day, or the month, when he took the first step, in the downward road of intemperance. It requires time to pervert the natural taste; to silence the remonstrances of conscience, to overcome the sense of shame; to extinguish the best affections of the heart; and, with the eyes open, to plunge voluntarily into all the miseries of infamy, poverty, disease, death, and perdition.

It is by degrees, that an inor dinate thirst for ardent spirits is created. The poison diffuses itself through the system unseen VOL. IX.

ance.

coming upon him. Every day adds a new and stronger link to the chain, that is soon to bind him beyond the hope of deliverAt every step his path be comes more steep and critical. Like a benighted wanderer on the glaciers of Switzerland, he walks upon the brink of destruction, and knows it not. Or, rath er, he is like a man in a delirium, who should stand and laugh and sing on some loose impending crag of the highest Alps, at the very moment when he is about plunging into the abyss beneath.

This might serve for a hasty outline; but it may be useful, though it should be painful, to pursue the subject further. Let us then endeavor, in a few cases, to trace the insidious progress of intemperance, step by step, from the first excess, to downwright snd habitual intoxication.

We will begin with one of those invalids, who are gradually and insensibly seduced by strong drink, under the imposing name of medicine. He resorts to the bottle of bitters at first, not be. cause he craves liquor, but to re

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move some ache, or to gain a temporary relief from debility. He drinks very sparingly once a day, and is sure that it does him good. Soon he finds, that the little, which he has been accustomed to take, does not produce the desired effect, and therefore increases the dose. While under its stimulating operation he feels better, but when that ceases, he sinks lower than ever. Long before the stated hour returns, he is driven, by a kind of unaccountable impulse, to the bottle, by the use of which he once more gains a momentary relief.

In the mean time, he feels, or thinks he feels, a variety of strange spasms and shooting pains, which nothing but his belov ed medicine can remove. Under this impression, he after a while uses it so frequently and so freely, that its inebriating effects become apparent to his friends. They are alarmed, and very tenderly suggest to him the expediency of substituting some other medicine. He is confident that nothing will answer the purpose so well, and thinks himself fully authorized, nay bound, to reject their friendly advice. The habit of drinking now increases upon him every day. He is of ten disguised, and his friends think it high time to remonstrate with him in a more decided tone. He pretends to be astonished, that they should entertain such unkind suspicions; assures them that these suspicions are wholly groundless; that he drinks no more than his health absolutely requires, and wonders how they can be so cruel, as to think of depriving a poor sick man of the only medicine, which gives

him any relief. Thus he contrives to blind his own eyes, and to resist every motive that can be urged to save him from ruin. While he flatters himself that his health is improving, his bands are made strong. He wastes all the little strength that he had, and goes prematurely down to the grave, a confirmed drunkard. Or, if he recovers in spite of strong drink, it is only to drag out a few months or years of shame and guilt; to be a burden to his friends and a curse to the community. Such, in a thousand cases, is the gradual and insidious progress of intemperance, begun and carried on by using ardent spirits as a medicine.

Let us now trace its footsteps and its ravages, for a moment, along the path of honor and of fice. Here, alas! we shall find many a column, broken and defaced, which once stood strong and towered high, the pride and ornament of the state. Here, also, may we behold the useless fragments of a multitude of inferior pillars, which, while they stood, helped to support the public edifice. None of these, let it be remembered, were overthrown by a single shock. Their foundations were gradually and silently washed away, till they tottered, and at last fell to rise no more. How this catastrophe is produced, it is not difficult to explain. In doing public business men have the temp. tation to drink almost always be. fore them. Our habits are such, that to avoid being singular, those who would gladly decline, think they must, at least, take a little. Here the rivulet, in many cases, takes its rise. Drinking a little once, prepares

the way for drinking a little, or ratherja good deal more. Liquor is always plenty and is often free. This last circumstance it cannot be doubted, induces some to drink more, than they would feel themselves able to buy. Being Being once fairly initiated, they find it difficult to refrain. Having had the decanter of brandy always at hand, when abroad, discharging their public duties, it is natural to wish for it at home. And when matters have proceeded thus far, the danger of confirmed intemperance becomes great, and the most distressing apprehensions of friends, are too often speedily realized.

Thus, one indulgence, which, perhaps, was merely complimentary, prompts to a second; that to a third; and so on, till the melancholy fate of the victim is sealed. In the mean time, public confidence is gradually withdrawn. The whisper of suspicion gives place to the irresistible proofs of ocular demonstration. "He is not the man he once was," is repeated, by one and another, with a significant look and strong emphasis. To his utter astonishment he finds his character gone, before he suspected that it was even tarnished. This discovery accelerates his fall. He throws off those restraints which a regard to his character had imposed, becomes a confirmed sot, is an object of pity and derision while he lives, and goes unlamented down to the grave.

Still further to illustrate the gradual and fatal progress of intemperance, let us seek in the bosom of some happy and respectable family, for an amiable and promising youth on whom the fondest hopes of his parents

rest.

We will suppose (what alas! too often happens,) that through their indiscreet use of strong drink in the family, he contracted, even in childhood, too high a relish for the cordial and the sling. and the sling. Or we will sup pose, that his feet first began imperceptibly to slide, at a raising, a ball, a military parade, or, on a fourth of July. Having once begun to drink spir its, he repeats and increases the draught from time to time, without the least suspicion of danger, and is pleased with the exhilarat ing effects. This exhilaration is naturally followed by languor, and he soon learns, when his spirits are depressed, to raise them by the stimulus of ardent spirits.

Yielding to the importunity of merry and insinuating companions, he goes now and then to the tavern, or grog shop. The glass is filled, passes briskly around, and he is urged to partake of its contents. If he declines, or drinks sparingly, he is ridiculed as a lad of no spirit. Again the glass is replenished; again and again he is over-persuaded to put it to his mouth. Nor after others have treated him so generously, is it possi ble for him to get off with hon or, till he has called in his glass, and pledged the noisy circle. He goes away heartily ashamed of himself, and resolves never to be found in such company again. But he is again solicited and yields. He is observed to drink more willingly and freely than before, and is greeted with applause. This flatters his vanity, but cannot altogether quiet his conscience. He returns home late. The suspicions of his par

ents are excited. They inquire where he has been; and, after some attempts at equivocation, he is constrained to tell. They tenderly admonish him, and he promises never to offend in this way again. A new temptation, however, presents itself, and he is overcome. All this time, he abhors the character of a drunkard; never suspecting, that he is becoming one himself. But the dreadful truth begins to appear. His eyes and his face betray him. He grows idle and quarrelsome; answers his parents roughly; and learns to swear and gamble over the bottle, as often as he can find opportunity.

He is,perhaps, secretly carried home intoxicated, from his midnight revels, once or twice. The scene is too much for his doting father and mother. Their hearts are ready to burst with anguish. Haif despairing and half distracted, they weep and pray till he comes to himself, and then, in the most earnest and moving terms, set before him the fatal consequences of persevering in his present course. His brothers and sisters intreat him, with many tears, not to destroy himself, and not to rend the heartstrings of those who most tenderly love him. He is deeply affected; promises amendment, and forms strong resolutions, which, alas! prove like the morning cloud and the early dew.

At length his intemperance becomes a subject of public conversation. Many have seen him in a state of partial or complete intoxication. Then it is, that to save his character, if possible, a little longer, his

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friends invent for him, a variety of excuses; such as that he drank upon an empty stomach; he was very much out of health; he was overcome with cold; or he is subject to fits and fainting. Vain efforts to conceal truth! He has fits, indeed, but they are fits of drunkenness, which become every month more frequent and more public. He is seen staggering away fi om the dram shop, or lying senseless on the ground, at noon day. If he is able to get home, he raves like a maniac, or rather like a fiend; curses him that begat, and her who bare him, and imprecates the vengeance of God upon his own head.

Thus he goes on, waxing worse and worse; selling the very clothes from his back to buy spirits; destroying all the faculties of his mind; and treasuring up wrath against the day of wrath.

He dies as he lived. The grief of his mother is too big for utterance. Gladly would she pour it forth in tears, but cannot. Even tears refuse to come to her relief. His father, trembling with agony, and bending over his grave, breaks out in the heart rending apostrophe of king David, O my son, my son, would God I had died for thee, my son, my son.

vast circumference, that his friends would scarcely perceive the motion, and he was wholly unconscious of it himself. But at length,suspicion ripened into certainty. It became apparent, that every revolution hastened his progress, and carried him nearer to the fatal centre. His fond wife, terrified almost to distraction, intreated him instantly to make his escape. He smiled at her weakness, and assured her there was no danger. This increased her alarm; and fain would she have rescued him at the hazard of her own life, but could not. His children stretched out their imploring hands, and his friends made every possible effort to save him, but in vain. At times indeed, he would seem to listen to their intreaties, and feebly to struggle against the current, that was hurrying him to destruction. But at length its whirling velocity made him giddy, and even deprived him of reason. Every moment accelerated his approach to the roaring gulf; and while I beheld, he suddenly disappeared, and I saw him no more!

Let my readers tell, whether they have not seen a man, happy in the bosom of his family, kindly discharging the duties of a husband and father, till that great destroyer, strong drink, entered his house, and tempted him to his undoing. His destruction, however, was not accomplished in a day or a month. If he indulged his appetite for liquor too far, he firmly resolved never to become a slave to it. If he drank his morning bitters regularly every day, he was sure that the habit could not be attended with any danger. If he went ocGasionally to the tavern, it was

only to read the news-papers; or if to the dram-shop, he had business there which could not be dispensed with. He always retired early and sober.

But notwithstanding all his excuses and palliations it was apparent, that he had begun to fall. Instead of passing his evenings at home, as formerly, he might be seen hanging about the tavern till a late hour. Private and tender remonstrances were resorted to, and he promised reformation. He left his dissolute companions, and resolved never to renew the connexion. But neither promises nor resolutions could bind him. He returned to his cups. He neglected his business. His customers called, and not finding him at home, withdrew their patronage. His wife tried every endearing method to withdraw his feet from the path of ruin. He was not yet a drunkard; but it was evident he would be soon, unless thing could be done to check his progress, and no effectual means could be devised. At length he came home intoxicated. The distress of his partner and the consternation of his children, may be imagined, but cannot be painted.

some

When sleep had brought him to himself, most earnestly did she conjure him for his own sake, for her's, and for that of their common offspring, to reform without delay. He seemed to relent; begged that she would forgive him; bound himself by the most solemn promises, and once more revived her hopes. Ah delusive hopes! Unable to walk, he was soon after carried home by his companions; slept away the fumes of the inebria