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© IS A TT 0 © M . AN ORATION, DELIVERED IN MADISON, AT THE BAPTIST CHURCH, ON THE OCCASION OP THE CELEBRATION OP THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1842, BY THE •• MORGAN COUNTY TEMPERANCE SOCIETY.” BY LUCIUS L. WITTICH, Esq. Fellow-Citizens : Whilst the question of separation from, ami independence of the Government of Great Britain, was being agitated in the Con gress of the colonies, in 1776, Messrs. John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, R. R. Livingston, Roger Sherman, and Thomas Jefferson, were appointed a Committee to prepare a Declaration of lndeperi dence. The preparation of this paper was committed to Mr. Jeffer son. After the original draught of Mr. Jefferson had undergone some slight amendments by the Committee, it was reported to Con gress on the 28th June; and after discussion and amendment in that body, it fiually passed, on the evening of the 4th of July, in the form in which it has this day been read. There are certain great truths embodied in this declaration, which may be properly regatded as fundamental. These are the rights of life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness, and self-government. To substitute anew form of government for their support, ir. place of the one which invaded them, was the object of the revolution. 1 invite your attention this day, to a short consideration of these rights. Human existence, without liability to arbitrary and illegal sacrifice, lies at the foundation of all the rest. And what is life? ‘Tis being—’tis holding place amid the scenes and companships of earth, with the attributes of existence in successful exertion —’tis that active and sentient state which humanity possesses below; with the higli and lofty faculties, which attach to man, in play to perceive and enjoy the bright scenes of earth spread about him. ’Tis this life, bestowed by the Great Creator, with these capacities for enjoy ment, which no human power may arbitrarily destroy. For that exertion of authority which strikes a successful blow at existence, falls equally successful upon the foundation, on which all govern mental authority must operate. Another of the rights asserted in the declaration, and which properly attaches to m in, is liberty. It will readily be perceived, that life itself, without liberty, is comparatively valueless and joyless* The convict, confined in his solitary cell, away from the associations of man and endearments of fiiends, without the right to mingle his emotions with the warm stream of human sympathies, which flows broadly through the bosom of society—or, to mingle the thoughts of solitude, which spring up in his mind, with the intellectual efforts of others; This man, thus circumstanced, lias life, but ’tis a life of anguish and sorrow. All nature may vevel in the fullness and joy of its existence; and man, free and unconfined, may drink from every bubbling spring of earth, a long deep draught of joy; yet, nature and earth are to him, as though they were not. Now, what is true in this extreme case, is true of every partial abridgement of human liberty. Whatever restrains it, beyond the necessities and good of the social compact, necessarily diminishes its value. Never theless, there are restraints, necessary to the well being of society, which when imposed upon human liberty, enhance its value. Therfe are the restraints of Law—of law, enacted by the people or tfieir representatives —of law, administered and executed by the officers of the people. Such restraints, instead of being incompatible with, do actually secure the fruition of a well regulated constitutional liberty. A liberty, which, whilst it cousists in the broadest and largest enjoyment of one man’s rights, prevents him from so enjoy ing them as to interfere with the rights of another. A liberty, which is not subject to be controlled and annulled by the edict of arbitrary authority, but which has controlled itself by the voluntary imposition of restraints. This is the liberty, which of right, be longs to man in a state of society, and to secure which in its fullest meaning, he may throw off that form of Government which becomes oppressive, and establish another. is the liberty enjoyed in this republic, and in which the people take pride. And should they not? Whilst it gurant.es to one man the enjoyment of life, repu tation, and property —whilst it opens up the pathway to honor, and holds out the glittering prize of office to the successful competitor; it still flings the broad protection of the law over every other’s life, reputation, and property, and shields and guards the rights of him, who mav be unsuccessful in the race for place. The pursuit of happiness is another of the t ights embodied in the declaration, as inherent in man. And is it not so? ’Tis inter woven with the very frame work of his nature. God has planted it there, and God alone can annul it. There is no condition of be ing, no circumstance of human existence, in which it will not devel ope itself. It must developc itself, or man ceases to be what he is. If he be immured in a dungeon—if be be laid on the couch of suf fering—if be be surrounded with all the circumstances which mark the extremest poverty —still, from this dungeon—from this couch of sickness —from these ci rep instances —the struggling, heaving, master emotion of his nature, is an aspiration for happiness, ami the controlling act of his being, is a vigorous effort to extract from the bitterness of bis situation, as much of happiness as may be. To pursue, then, this universal object of human desire, is man’s right; and that Government which interposes the fewest obstacles to its attaiument, is the one which all men have the right to institute. The right of self-government is another proposition of the declaration. This is essential to the security of the others, in their fullest enjoyment. This right of the people to adopt and establish a government for themselves, is an antagonist principle to the one on which nearly all the governments of the earth had previously ex isted. Now and then, as the mind glances along the past history of nations, here and there a people may be found who have asserted and maintained the principle of our declaration. But the instances’ are few. The great body of the nations have been governed upon the principle, that one man, or a few men, by virtue of inheritance were entitled to wield the power of government over the masses. The Divine right of Kings bad been asserted and acquiesced in. The power of the monarchs; the submission of the people; the whole frame-work of society, had all lent their influence to the sanc tion of this principle. The hoary age of departed centuries had given dignity and strength to this practice of the past. But in this new world, amid the grand and bold and varied scenery of the wes tern hemisphere, on the virgin bosom of this young continent—a young people, with their minds unfettered by the reasoning of cen turies past, and their hearts undismayed by the dangers which threa tened them—dajed to declare to the old monarchies of earth, and to proclaim in the ear of kingly power, their right to self-govern ment. Under the circumstances in which they were placed it was a bold declaration. The power of the British Government—then, and perhaps now, the strongest of the governments of the world— stood ready to break down these republican statesmen and the gov ernment they should form for themselves. The feebleness of the colonies, both in the number of men they could equip for the war, and in the munitions of vyar which they could command, was a strong argument against the utterance of the declaration. Yet they boldly proclaimed it, in tho very teeth of Biitish power, with the feebleness of their condition in full view, and in opposition to the sanctioned principles of centuries, that these United States of right ought to be free and independent States. And now, after the con flict of the revolution is past —after the assertion of this’ right in our declaration—and its maintenance by the stout hearts and strong arms of our fathers—with the lapse of more than half a century gone by to test the value of it, in its practical workings—now, with the broad superstructure of law and government which the Kople have erected on this reat principle, standing out in all its autiful and efficient proportions, before our eyes—with a consti tution limiting and defining the authority of government, and set tling and guaranteeing the rights and privileges of the people— with laws wholesome and efficient, enacted by the representatives of the people, gathering in their ample sweep the rights of every man, and protecting and shielding the same with tfieir broad cover ing—with this fair and proportioned fabric of government before our eyes, may it not lie said, that bold as was the deed of the actors in that time of peril, that deed has produced glorious results to these Uuited States. I propose now to consider what influence intemperance exerts upon these important principles of the declaration. Life, unques tionably, is most comfortable end useful, when all the faculties of existence are freest to the performance of their several functions. A perfectly healthy body, with its members unembarrassed by dis ease, accompanied with an intellect, in the full play of its natural attributes, forms the most perfect exhibition of human life, fitted for enjoyment or usefulness. Now.it is a well known fact, that intern- S (Dip IQ]B IB St SB llß'<o IB lb lb A SI? o peranco tends necessarily to disturb the animal economy and de range the mental operations. Indeed, it is a fact, which every man may have discovered in bis own experience, that even an occasional or moderate use of alcoholic drinks, produces the same results. There is no necessity to introduce the learning of the physicians to establish this point. The whetted appetite—the excited spirits— the accelerated impulse imparted to the’ whole animal machinery— the flushed face and the aching brow have all conspired, in the expe rience of every one of us, to demonstrate that even an occasional or moderate use of drink is an invasion upon the very attributes of life. And this occasional and moderate use has only to be succeed ed, es, in a great many instances it is, by a continuous and intem perate use, to produce upon the faculties of lifo still more disastrous results. Who has not seen the deep-reddened cheek—the inflamed eye—the inflated body of the confirmed drunkard—and who lias not witnessed that as lie proceeded day after day, and year after year in his potations, by and by his body wasted, his muscles shrank, his eye dimmed, his frame trembeld, his brain fevered, his mind ob tunded, until, at last, every citadel of existence yielded, and life itself—God’s gift to man—sank beneath the blow of this unfailing destroyer. Intemperance is likewise an invason of the liberty of man. To enjoy liberty involves the idea, that the faculties which are necessary to its fruition, should abide in such condition, as to be competent to their free and unrestrained exercise. The mind of man must be clear to perceive what are his rights, and the will must be unfetter ed to determine him to the maintenance and enjoyment of them, or lie is, in no proper sense, a free man. This being true, I ask, has not the observation of all men witnessed the partial, and in some instances, the entire overthrow, both of the mind and wili of the drunkard ? All have seen it. There is a man, who when sober, has a clear head and a well balanced will. He has engaged in a merry scene—the companions of the bowl have been his—the familiar joke —the merty song—the loud laugh—the thrilling tale—the deep draught—have all been bis; and from that scene, he comes out amongst bis fellows, a reeling, staggering drunkard! Just then, I ask, is he a free man? Has be any consciousness of his rights? Any purpose to maintain them? His mind is upset for the time being— liis will is mastered by the power of drink, and then and there be is n fit subject for the swindler’s sport. Deepen the picture a little. His draughts have been long and strong enough to deprive him of the power of locomotion, and he has quietly yielded to their influ > ence, and now lies a sleeping, snoring drunkard, beside the public highway. Where is that man’s liberty ? It is gone; he has sut rendered it to the bottle. Drink is his master, and be is its slave. But there is another view of this matter Constitutional liber ty not only guarantees the enjoyment of our own rights, but is ac companied with an obligation to aid in protecting the rights of others. Society is so intermingled in its interests that whilst one man pos sesses the largest amount of liberty in consequence of liis association with others, this very association imposes upon him the necessity of assisting in maintaining the liberty of these others. This is neces sary in order to the security of liis own. For if there be a weak ness in the form of Government, which renders it incompetent to the protection of one, when his rights are assailed; this weakness will be equally incompetent to assist another, in the same circum stances. When this is the case all liberty is goue; it is the mere sport and plaything of him who has the largest physical power. Hence the duty to sustain that form of Government which protects a man’s liberty, is a necessary consequence of his connexion with that Government. Is a drunken man qualified to discharge any of the duties which he owes to society ? Can he aid properly in up holding the law, which protects his neighbor’s rights—-'which pro tects his own? Is he fit, as a judge, to expound (he law, and en force the application of its remedies? Is he competent, as a juror, to settle the rights of others? Where is the man, with a just cause, who would entrust it to the management of a drunken Attorney— to the decision of a drunken Judge—to the verdict of a drunken jury? Who so weak as to commit the protection of his lights to a tribunal thus circumstanced ? None. If it thus clearly appear to be necessary to the maintenance of public liberty, that the officers ap pointed to enforce the public law- should be sober; of how muen importance is it, that the law-makers should he temperate. They are the men, set by the people in their commanding position, to set tle by their enactments the lights of the people—to determine the mode and manner of their security, and to employ the sanctions of their high authority to effect these things. Should they not have clear heads, as well as.honest hearts? What guarantee would the people have, for the perpetuity of their rights, if their Legislators and their Governors were a band of drunken sots? How long would liberty last, in the keening of such law-makers? Again, if war come, and ihe tights of the country are to be defended; how successful would the defence be, with the commanding officer a sot, and bis soldiery a drunken army? How long would it he, with such defenders, before the stars and the stripes would trail the dust, and the proud fabric of constitutional freedom, reared by the patri otism of the men of the revolution, would tumble into ruins? There is still another view of this subject. Well regulated liberty consists in the enjoyment of rights, so as not to interfere with the like enjoyment of others. Whatever produces a condition of society, the tendency of which is to interfere with the rights of others, is aw invasion of the great principle of social liberty. Intem perance produces this condition. No man, in a state of intoxication, has any proper appreciation, even of liis own rights, much less of the rights of others. Partially bereft of reason, and excited and impelled by the stimulation which is upon him, he acts, reckless of his own interests, and regardless of the interests of others. Hence it is, that the luige majority of crimes, committed against the public justice of the country, are the result of intemperance. Now, this invasion of the public justice of the country is an attack upon the liberty of the whole people. It is an assault upon the sanctions and safeguards of the law, which are intended to protect the mass. And every invasion of public justice, is accompanied either directly or indirectly with a violation of the private rights and liberties of the citizen. Look out upon the bosom of thisgreat republic; ami as the eye glances from Maine to Florida—from the shore, where the wave of the Atlantic washes the long line or Eastern coast, to the far oft’ West, where this mighty nation’s limits interlock with the limits of the immeasurable prairies, that stretch beyond-*—and as the eye be holds State after State rise up before it. until at one survey, it takes in the whole array of States, united and compacted togctiier by the constitution of the Union—and then, as you gaze, suppose every man, inhabiting this outstretched republic, a drunkard—task, how long would liberty abide—would this be, the land of the free, and the home of the brave? * So certainly then, as a universal existence of intemperance would produce an overthrow of the liberties of the whole people; so certainly does its existence, to any extent, invade the rights of the people, to that extent. Intemperance, likewise is an enemy to the pursuit of happi ness. ’Tis true, that men sometimes resort to their cups to make themselves happy; or, more properly speaking, to drown tfieir cares and quiet their troubles. But then, this drowning of cites —this quieting of troubles, lasts only whilst the opiate lasts. When it is off. the cares and the troubles come again; and they are accompan ied with causes of unhappiness which result from the very means employed to drown them. And, then, these accumulated troubles must he drowned; intoxication must go on; the sensibilities of the heart must be deadened by drink; a continuous state of inebriety sustained, even on to the grave, that these cares may he over come, and an unconscious happiness secured. Jut is this the road to happiness I —this the way, which intellectual reings, capable of thought—which moral beings, possessed of lienrb, capable of high and thrilling emotions, must take to find a halm foi their wounds, an elysium where cares come not? Every act of intoxication is a blow at the happiness which the drunkard himself seeks. But, if ho only involved his own peace in ruin, by his act, sad as tie minis, still it might be borne. Unfortunately, he involves the peace of others. The same dagger which he drives into his own happiness, pierces into the happiness of others; the same bitterness which bedashes into the cup of life he drinks, lie casts into the cup of others. Man is not a solitary being in the midst of his fellows. He is interl eked, by the various relations of life, with others; and every act >f liis strikes a cord of social existence, which sends its vibrations i midst the thoughts and sympathies of those with whom he is conr :cted. Its influence is expended not alone upon himself—it reaches o t and takes hold of all, within the range of his relationship. Let hi n err, an 1 that error may send a |>ang to a mother’s heart; an aged itlier may feel the shock in his inmost soul; the warm nnd boundim feel ings of a sou may lie chilled and crushed; the tender and soft emo tions of a daughter, maybe ruthlessly smitten; the confidinFand gbs irbing affections of a wife may be withered and scutteredt the happiness of a whole circle of family connexions may be blasted. Intemperance is eminently calculated to produce this destruction of relative happiness. It breaks down the strongest physical constitu tion—prostrates the powers of the mind—blunts the moral sense and chills the sympathies of the heart —wastes estates —degrades character —and when mail, elevated and noble, gifted and endowed with attributes such as God has given, thus falls—in liis fall and ruin he involves the happiness of all, who are finked to him by the rela tionships of earth. There is no relation of life so close and affec tionate, as that which exists between man and wife: and there is none, which it would seem, a man would be less likely to embitter. And yet home, where wife and children are—where the sunlight of joy should ever smile —and over which no cloud of darkness should ever spread itself—the drunkard’s home is sometimes —yea, often, the scene of the deepest and keenest misery. Pass those acts of cruelty, which a husband or father, maddened by the power of driuk, some times perpetrates upon liis unoffending family—that state of want and suffering, which in some cases, the helpless wife and more than orphaned children are brought to endure in consequence of the in temperance of the husband and father. And on some night of drun ken debauch, 20 to the home of the drunkard, and mark the condi tion of his wife: Her little ones have been laid away to sleep— and quietly and sweetly they slumber, watched and guarded by the sleepless eye and tireless arm of the Almighty. Alone, with no companionship of earth, she sits; sad and hitter feelings are in her heart—her bosom heaves with the intensity of her emotions, and these emotions have pencilled themselves upon every lineament of her countenance. She sits, a monument of grief, and the big tears steal silently down her faded cheek. The stars are out in the Hea vens —the moon is up, and lets her soft beams down upon the earth —the breeze is abroad, and in its wanderings plays gently with her fevered brow—all nature is still and quiet—anil amidst the stillness and quietness of night, she sends another and another gaze upon the pathway to her home, to see if her husband yet comes, hut he comes not! And then memory runs hack upon the days of child hood—those happy days, when life’s gay scene was gay to her— when, from every point of earth a well spring of joy gushed tip in her pathway. To the days of young womanhood, when the sports and playtimes of childhood were past, and her fresh heart sent abroad its affections amidst the scenes of time—when, beneath her father’s roof, or out upon the earth’s bosom, she mingled with her virgin companions and laughed and sported, and was happy. To the day, when she received the pledge of her husband’s love, and gave hack her’s in return —when she laid her young warm heart on his bosom, and committed her all of earthly bliss to his keeping, and he promised to make her happy, and she was happy with that pro mise ; and then she thinks of the present, the painful present —child- hood past —youth past —her father and her mother dead—her hus band away amid the haunts of revelry, a drunkard! and she, a heart broken, lone wife—neglected, laid aside, for the companship of Bachanals—watching hour after hour for his return —hut still he comes not! Who can describe the misery of that lone wife? Who can enter her heart, and gather up the torn affections as they lie bleeding upon her soul, and weigh the anguish she feels? . There is no beauty in the stars, no mildness in the moonbeams, no softness in the breeze, no repose in nature, to her. Within her bosom the serpent’s fang is fixed and the poison is stealing its deadly way along every channel of her soul. This is but a faint picture of one night’s scene; and what is true in respect to one night, is true’ in respect to all the nights of revelry. And what is true in respect to one family, is true in respect to the families of all who surrender them selves to the cup. Who then can calculate the amount of happi ness which this one evil strikes from our land ? The right of self-government is dependent for its maintenance, upon the existence and vigor of these other rights. If they be de stroyed, it is destroyed. If habits of life are formed in the com munity which are destroying these rights in the body politic; which have fixed themselves as so many canker-worms upon the heart of the social compact, and are gnawing away these great fundamental principles of the declaration; then the government, which is found ed upon them, falls along with tlieir overthrow. In view of the obvious injury which intemperance is inflicting upon these inherent rights of man—-and which are so emphatically enumerated in the declaration—what is the duty of every patriot? Unquestionably, to interpose to arrest the progress of the evil. If the army of a foreign enemy should invade our land, burn our cities and slay our citizens, every patriot’s heart would beat high with in dignation, and every patriot’s arm would he braced to repel the in vader. II a little hand of desperate men should plot treason, and endeavor to subvert the government, a nation’s frown and a nation’s vengeance would fall upon them. Are the obligations of patriotism less binding—is the love of country less warm and animating—is attachment to the great principles of the declaration less strong and abiding less efficient and operative, because the foe to our coun try’s perpetuity and independence, approaches the citadel of our liberties along the stealthy pathway of intemperance? If the inva sion be as certain in the one case as the other; if it he as deadly and uncompromising in the one case as the other; can the character of the foe, or the difference in the manner of assault, change at all the obligation or the desire to repel him? It certainly cannot change the obligation—it can only change the means of repulsion. One of the important instruments employed by our statesmen to perpetuate the institutions of the country is the diffusion of knowledge. They judge, anil rightly judge, that ignorance, universally existing amongst the people is a foe to liberty, and might he made the instrument of some designing demagogue to upset the government. Therefore, they have made provision for the wide dissemination of knowledge; knowing full well, that this is’ the proper weapon, with which to drive ignorance from the land. So likewise, now, that intemperance is demonstrated to be a foe to human life, to human liberty, to the pursuit of happiness and to self-government; that it tends to the entire extinction of all these great truths of the declaration ; it is the act of patriotism to employ that weapon which shall drive back this destroyer from our borders. This weapon is not the glittering sword, the measured tread of the disciplined battalions, nor the musketry of the soldiery—it is not the enactment of law, which lays its coercive hand upon the dealer and arrests him in the prosecution of his business—but it is the universal practice of total abstinence. Intemperance is the enemy of our rights—total abstinence is the in strument of repulse. Intemperance is a foul blot upon the face of our social existence—total abstinence is the purifier of this stain. And is not the weapon of resistance sufficient to repel this foe of our country’s rights 1 Let every man cease to drink—that very ces sation makes us a sober people. That very abstinence re-asserts anew every principle of the declaration, and furnishes another guar antee for the perpetuity of our institutions. Who then, will with hold his assistance in this great cause? Who will draw back from this vindication of his country’s rights? Who will not rush to the rescue? In the days of ’76—yes, on Me day of’76—the day of days in that memorable year, on the anniversary of which we are now met to read and meditate upon the great chart of social and political principles then declared—declared by our patriot fathers to be our rights—rights, which no human government might inter fere with and invade, hut by the assertion of a despotism—on that day, in that same instrument which announced these truths—these patriot fathers pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to maintain them. They flung their country’s banner to the breeze, with these hallowed principles inscribed thereon, and that country rallied around it and maintained it. And now, on this day of rejoicing and commemoration—when we have met to hug these principles still closer to our hearts—to cherish and love them afresh —to assert and vindicate them anew—when the foe which is stealthi ly, yet surely, undermining them, stands revealed to our view—and a call is made upon the patriot sons of the patriot fathers of ’76, to gird them for the contest and save again these glorious rights—f ask, where is the man that will not rush to the rescue? Who will not pledge his honor, as a gentleman, in this cause? That pledge, instead of signing away his liberties, is like the pledge of ’76—it is the declaration of his own personal freedom —and the assertion of a patriot’s high resolve, to perpetuate the freedom of his country. 11l the days of ’76, notwithstanding the bold and vigorous stand takeu by the signers of the declaration of independence; there were some, whose heads and whose hearts, were not then ready for the decisive act, which sundered the colonies from the mother coun try. Yea, there were some, who prefercd the dominion and govern ment of the King and Parliament of Great Britain to the indepen dence of the colonies —and who, through the long and bitter con test which ensued, stood shoulder to shoulder, beside the British legions, and waged a war of implacable hostility against the armies of the republic. So now, when those who have long been subject to the domin ion of intemperance, and wore his galling chains, have aroused them- selves to shake off his iron despotism—when those who have watch* ed the progress of this mighty tyrant, and marked his relentless exercise of power over his subjects, and have beheld the steadiness with which, step by step, he has advanced in his invasions of the princi ples of the declaration; have united together to prosecute a warof hos tility against this foe to their personal and national freedom, and have sent forth to the world the declaration of their independence, and pledged their honors to its maintenance; there are some whose heads and whose hearts are not yet ready to assist in this work of revolu tion. Amongst these, are those who have so entangled themselves with fashion, that they prefer to yield a tame and quiescent obedi ence to the commands of this imperious and haughty queen, rather than assert their independence; though this obedience may result ultimately, either in their own banishment, or the banishment of some of their relatives or fiiends from the empire of fashion, into the land where intemperance is monarch of all. This fashion is a naughty ruler. She is a capricious Queen. Her sceptre is overlaid with glitter, but still it is a rod of iron. Her audience chamber is hung with festoons and flowers—her throne is amidst pearls and jewels—her face is wreathed in smiles and beaming with the light of benignity—but then, her subject, as he approaches into the pres ence of this Goddess of the earth’s devotions—this plaything of the world’s vanity, must yield his reason and his conscience to her keep ing; or her rod is upon him, and the frown of excommunication drives him from her presence. There is so much that is winning and ensnaring itt her smiles—so much that is fascinating and over powering in the charm and splendor of her empire—that many a man will not break away from the chains, which she has upon him though his conscience and his judgement both war against her ex actions. That class of our fellow citizens, who are controlled by this mistress of social intercourse, are some of those whose heads and whose hearts are not yet toady for the act which sunders their allegiance. Still their heads admit, and it is to be hoped their hearts feel, the benefits which have resulted to the country from this move ment —but yet, the injunctions of fashion—the restraints of well bred and polite society at e such, that they cannot, no, they cannot he so impolite as to refuse to pledge in a glass of wine; though the cry of a thousand drunkards from the ditch should peal upon their ears and call for help—though the sighs of broken-hearted wives and the sobs of suffering children should mingle their plaintive and beseeching tones about them, and beg for assistance. Far be it ftom me to inculcate that which is boorish and impolite. And yet, no law of fashion—no requirement, of what is termed genteel society, should he so obligatory upon any man, as to bind back his influence from a cause like this. No, no. The war has begun—liberty to the drunkard—happiness to liis wife and children must be won. Let us break these fetters of fashion, and strike a blow for the regenei ation of our race. But there is another class. They are those, who look upon the wine when it is red, and smile when they look—who drink from the sparkling bowl, and love the draught they drink; and who have so habituated themselves to its use, either moderately or immoderate ly, that their appetites have attaiued the victory over their minds and hearts. And now, they prefer the dominion of a relentless and unsatisfied habit, to the freedom and independence of total absti nence. That man, whoever he be, who thus yields himself up to the indulgence of his appetites is a bond-man; and every effort he makes against this great movement, is a blow struck for his King, against the great principles of the declaration. There is still another class. They are those, who are neither the subjects of fashion, nor of drink; who, nevertheless, will take no part nor lot in this great work. They are like the neutrals of the revolution. They are neither for King George nor the Colo nies; and their preferences are always determinable'by the com pany in which they happen to be. If with the red coats, then they are very good royalists. If with the blue coats, then they are very good patriots. They stand by and watch the contest as it waxes fiercer and fiercer; and as it waxes on they endeavor to enrich themselves by carrying on a species of contraband trad? with both parties; intending in the end to be on the side which is victorious. ‘Tis even so in this movement. There are some who are neither for us nor against us. They will not join the army of temperance, nor will they take sides with intemperance. They are on the one side or the nthet, according to the complexion of the company they are in, for the time being. If with the teetotallers, then they ate very good temperance men: if with the wine-bibbers, then they are very good anti-society men. They may very appropriately be termed hunters of popularity—seekers of office—men, who love the smiles, and court the greetings of all; who, in the end, will be on that side which gains the day in this revolt. 1 regret there are such meu, in this land of freedom of thought--freedom of speech, and independence of action. Still there are such, and their great worth lies in the fact, that they at e worth just nothing at all to any cause. When such men espouse any cause, it is not for the sake of the cause, but for the sake of the importance and influence which the cause brings to them. Let that cause he on the Hood tide, and they are heroes. Let it be on the ebb, and they abandon it to the keeping of others. Notwithstanding these formidable difficulties—notwithstanding there are some who are not yet ready for the contest; or if ready, will fight on the wrong side: still the fast and tried friends of this glorious revolution have declared their independence. They have flung their banner to the breeze, as the patriots of ’76 did; and they expect every matt and woman, who love their country, to rally to its maintenance. As the inscription on our own society banner desig nates, it is the cause of “National and Moral Freedom.” A cause, which commends itself to every lover of his country—every friend of his race. A few words in conclusion, upon the motto on the other side of our banner: “Cold water, the only beverage given to Adam, by his maker, and good enough for his posterity.” There is some thing strong in this thought. Man was made—Paradise, with its beauties and its luxuries was spread for bis enjoyment; but, in all that garden of delights, fashioned by God himself and designed to minister to the pleasure of his creature, naught beside the pure cold water, which flowed through Eden, was prepared to slake his thirst. If aught else would have been better—would have minister ed more appropriately to his necessities or his pleasures, it would have been prepared. And is it not good enough for his posterity? Cold Water! It is the very beverage of nature itself. Earth owes all its beauties to its influence. The flowers of the valley—the trees of the forest—the produce of the fields, all drink of it and are made glad. The dew, which gently steals its way to earth amidst the calmness and silence of night from the laboratory of God—or the rain drops, which come out the full bosom of the cloud rolled up by the hand of the Omnipotent, and find their way to earth, slake the thirst of the vegetable world. All nature drinks of it—and the flower of the valley puts on a lovelier tint—the tree of the forest sends out another bough—and the harvest of the husbandman is la den with a heavier yield. The lark of the morning, as he sends bis first merry note to the opening day, laves his wing in the humid air, and takes his morning drink from the dew-drop which trembles on the leaf. The eagle of the mountain finds his beverage in th© gushing water, which pours its limpid stream from the mountain’s side. .The beast of the forest, in the midst of his roamings, stops alone bv the side of some wandering rivulet to satisfy his appetite for driuk. The hart panteth only for the cooling water brook. And is it not this, which gives verdure to the green spots of the desert —which colors the flowerets of the valley—which strengthens and beautifies the forest—which clothes the fields with their waving har vests—which satisfieth the birds of the air and the beasts of th© wood—which is the beverage of God's own fashioning, distilled in the alembic of nature—and which comes gushing out from every mountain side, a pure—clear—bright—cold stream of healthful wa ter, good enough for man ? “Ho every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters and drink.” ©©unftlhcßinm MEns©@Maimy aool l[ 3 @inMS g The “SOUTHERN MISCELLANY” is published every Saturday Mminf, in Madison, Morgan County, Georgia, and furnished to subscribers at TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS per annum—ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CEN TS for six months always in advance. |Qr Distant aubscribera may rely on receiving their papers in good condition, as they are packed up and mailed with the utmost care. 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