directress. Even the doctrines and precepts of Revelation can be nothing to us, until Reason has first discerned it to be a Revelation; and determined the real import of its precepts and doctrines. Still more absolutely is it the Arbiter of all our ordinary concerns. For these we have no other guide, and can submit them to no other control. In a word, Reason makes us men; and without it we should be brutes.

But this invaluable possession, this essence of his character as a human being, himself, his all, the Drunkard rapidly wastes away.

8. The Drunkard destroys his Usefulness.

This Evil is dreadfully involved in the loss of his property, health, reputation, and reason. The perpetual degradation, with which he daily appears to the eyes of those around him, not only forbids the esteem, and confidence, which are indispensable to the attainment of useful business; but renders him an object of abhorrence and loathing. Thus, without reputation to recommend him to others, or property, or even inclination, to befriend them; with health and Reason so decayed, as to be unable to befriend himself; he ceases to be of any serious use to either. Of course, he becomes a burden, a nuisance, a calamity, to the world. Good would it have been for this man, if he had never been born.

In the mean time, sunk and lost as he is, he continues, and usually for a length of time, to be a merry and jovial haunter of taverns and dram-shops; and, like a vessel of variolus matter ocсаsionally opened, spreads, from day to day, a pestilential contagion through the clusters of miserable wretches, who frequent these dangerous resorts. Few men injure a community more dreadfully than a drunkard. The sin, which peculiarly constitutes his character, is almost wholly derived from example. Every such example therefore, is the real cause of extending the evil to succeeding generations, as well as of corrupting his contemporaries. Were the injurers of mankind to receive their real deserts; Newgate would exchange many of its present tenants for the mischievous slaves of strong drink.

9. The Drunkard ruins his Family.

In this comprehensive and affecting article, several particulars merit the most serious consideration.

First; He spreads through his family the habit of Intoxication. The influence of parental example, especially when an evil example, I have already had occasion particularly to unfold. In the present melancholy case, all the power of such an example is felt to the utmost. It is an example seen daily, in the house, and in the parent. It is seen by children so soon as they can see any thing; and long before their minds are capable of distinguishing its nature, or its tendency. The parent visibly regards spirituous liquors as a peculiarly interesting enjoyment of sense, at a time when they know no enjoyments but those of sense. Of course, they cannot but think it eminently valuable. The means

of intoxication are also provided to their hand; and their own home, so far as a dangerous and malignant influence is concerned, is changed into a Dram-shop. The mother, in the mean time, not unfrequently contracts the same evil habit from the father; and thus both Parents unite in the unnatural and monstrous employment of corrupting their children. What a prospect is here presented to our view! A husband and wife, to whom God has given children, to be trained up by them for Heaven, united together in taking them by the hand, and leading them coolly to perdition. What heart, not made of stone, can look at such a family, without feeling exquisite distress, and the most terrible forebodings? Contemplate, for a moment, the innocent helpless beings, perfectly unconscious of their danger, and incapable of learning it, thus led as victims to the altar of a Modern Moloch, less sanguinary indeed, but not less cruel, than the heathen god, before whom the Israelitish Parents burnt their own Offspring; and say, whether you most pity the children, or detest the parents.

Secondly. By squandering his property he deprives them of both Comfort and Respectability.

The comfort, which we enjoy in the present world, so far as the world itself is concerned, is principally found in realizing the expectations, which we have rationally, and habitually, formed, concerning our future circumstances in life. These expectations are, of course, grounded on the circumstances of our Parents. We expect what we are thus taught to expect; and this naturally is, that we receive such an Education, and pass through life in such a manner, as is common to the children of those, who are in similar circumstances. These expectations the drunken parent gradually fritters away with the gradual diminution of his Estate. The mind of the Child sees, with more and more discouragement, one expected gratification vanish after another, till it ceases to expect at all; and sinks down into sullen, or broken-hearted despair.

Among the evils, which children suffer, a prime one is the loss of Education, of that Education, I mean, which is suited to their condition in life. The instructions, which children receive, are a debt, which no parent can without extreme guilt refuse to discharge; and of which no child can be prevented, but by robbery, as well as fraud. They are the chief means of his future comfort, and his future usefulness. They take him out of the list of Savages; and place him in the rank of Men. They form him to wisdom, to worth, and to honour. Beyond this, they open to him the gates of virtue, glory, and immortality; and point to him the path to Heaven.

The most important of these instructions the Parent himself is able, and therefore bound, to give; the instructions especially of a moral and religious nature, which are given, and received, with incomparably the greatest efficacy in the morning of life. But

what instructions can a drunkard communicate? What must be the efficacy even of Truth itself, proceeding from disturbed reason, a reeling frame, and a babbling tongue? With this image before him, what child can sufficiently withdraw himself from shame, and anguish, to learn at all? With what a contradictory, and monstrous deformity of character, must religious truths and precepts be inculcated on his child by a man, imbruted by strong drink!

The Government of Children is obviously of no less importance, than their Instruction. But what must be the Government, exercised by a Sot? A mixture of contradictions, imbecility, and rage; a mixture, which every child, six years old, perfectly understands; and which no child of that age can respect, or love. How can he reprove them for their faults? His own life is nothing but a tissue of faults. How can he enjoin upon them virtuous conduct? His own life is a perpetual war upon Virtue. How can he recommend to them religion? His whole character is an insult upon religion. All this his children perfectly know; and their meaning eyes, if he will look into them, will tell him the story in language unutterable.

Thirdly. He breaks their hearts by subjecting them to insupportable Mortification.

The Drunkard presents his family with the melancholy sight of an intoxicated Parent: an image always before their eyes: an image, which sinks them in the dust: an image, which overwhelms them in despair. What Child can look at such an object, and remember that this object is his Parent, without a broken heart?

The distsesses, thus experienced, he renders double-edged by his own fretful and passionate temper. All Drunkards, almost, assume this temper, of course; and in this manner become intolerable nuisances to those, with whom they are most intimately connected. The house of a Drunkard is always the seat of discontent, and turmoil. The sufferings of his family soon become too great to be borne with patience. Complaints, which nature cannot stifle, beget criminations, reproaches, abuses, and quarrels; terminating, not unfrequently, in wounds, bloodshed, and

death.

In this manner the temper of his family is ruined. They are taught, and in a sense forced, to become hostile to each other; and prepared to become enemies to mankind. At the same time, they are rendered uncomfortable to themselves; and should they have families of their own, are made curses to them also.

Their spirits, in the mean time, are broken down by an unceasing consciousness, which they cannot escape, that their disgrace, in all its complication, is known, and published, wherever they are known. The head, at least, of their domestic body is not only distressingly, but scandalously sick; and sick with a

hopeless, as well as shameful disease. The members, in greater or less degrees, suffer with the head; and, for it at least, suffer inexpressibly.

To all these things ought to be added their continual apprehension, that their husband, and parent, will come to some dreadful disaster, or to an untimely end, by some one of that numerous train of accidents, to which he is daily exposed; and the terrible conviction, that, should he even escape these evils, he is still going regularly onward to final perdition. This consummation of evils they are compelled to expect, with an assurance little short of absolute knowledge; and cannot fail to tremble in the morning, lest the dreadful event should arrive before the close of the day.

10. The Drunkard destroys his Life.

The Drunkard is as really a Suicide, as if he compassed his death by the pistol, or the halter. The difference is, principally, that the destruction is slower, and accomplished by a long succession of sins, and not by one bold and desperate effort of turpitude; and that the Drunkard, instead of aiming at his life, aims merely at the gratification of his appetite: while the Suicide makes his own destruction his prime purpose. The Drunkard is a negligent, the Suicide an intentional Self-Murderer. Often, indeed, the Drunkard destroys himself in a moment. Often, as I have already observed, he falls from his horse; or into the fire; or into the water; or is brought to an untimely end by some other fatal accident. Most usually, however, he wastes, gradually, the taper of life before the time; and thus cuts off one fourth, one third, or one half, of his accepted time: even while he lives, by his desperate progress in sin he terminates all his hopes of salvation.

11. The Drunkard ruins his Soul.

It has been heretofore observed, that the Drunkard destroys his Reason. In this manner he is unfitted for all profitable use of the means of Grace, and for all attention to eternal life. Every call of mercy finds him stupid and regardless. To every threatening, his ears are deaf: to every promise his heart is insensible. The power of Motives he knows not how to feel: and even their nature he cannot comprehend. To temptations, on the contrary, he is always exposed, alive, and awake. Around him, therefore, temptations throng, and every tempter fastens on him as his prey. Sin, of course, becomes his business: and he draws iniquity as with a cart-rope.

In the mean time, he is, beyond most other men, hopeless of reformation. The hopeless condition of a Sot is proverbial. Amendment in this case is so rare, as scarcely to admit belief. Indeed, Heaven seems to have stamped this sin almost always with reprobation. To complete his miserable condition, he is cut off from prayer. No person, who intends to sin, can pray. No person,

who intends to tempt himself, as the Drunkard always does, can say, Lead me not into temptation; but deliver me from evil: and no person, who cannot pray, can be saved. Thus the Drunkard holds out to his family, and to the world, the deplorable spectacle of a sinner, hardened beyond the common measure; exposing himself to sin, of every kind, and in every degree, and yet voluntarily depriving himself of the usual means of repentance; hastening to perdition, and yet closing his eyes to the dangers of the precipice on which he stands, and to the terrors of the gulf, which opens beneath.

IV. I shall now endeavour summarily to point out the Means of Avoiding this dreadful Evil.

1. Among these Means, it will be readily seen, must be the avoidance of the Causes, by which Intoxication is solicited, or encouraged.

Most of these causes may, ordinarily, be avoided by a little care, and a little resolution. No persons, except the family of the drunkard, are obliged to be present, unless casually, to examples of this nature. No person is necessitated to frequent the places in which, company of the persons by whom, this evil habit is encouraged. Every man can avoid regular drinking. That all this is the duty of every man, a duty of the most pressing kind, will not be questioned. Every thing, here, depends on resisting, or avoiding, the beginnings of evil.

or

Peculiarly, is it the duty, and wisdom, of all men to abstain from the haunts of drunkenness, from drinking companions, and from regular drinking. Almost all habits of intoxication are originated by one, or other of these causes. He, who becomes familiar with these temptations, is advancing to perdition with his eyes open.

2. The man, who finds in himself any peculiar relish for spirituous liquors, is bound to abstain from them wholly.

The relish for these increases, invariably, with every instance, and degree, of indulgence. To cherish it, therefore, is to make ourselves drunkards; and it is cherished most efficaciously by repeated drinking. No man will do this, who is not a fair candidate for bedlam.

3. All persons, who have already begun the habit of intoxication, are bound to desist, absolutely, from all use of strong drink.

Every effort at gradual reformation will only cheat him, who makes it. At first, it may seem to promise something; but it will soon be found to perform nothing of any use. The candidate for reformation will speedily find himself more entangled than ever, and at a greater distance from the reformation intended. Hard as the case may be, he must break off at once, or be ruined. 4. Persons, not peculiarly in danger of this evil, are, nevertheless, bound scrupulously to guard against it. VOL. III.

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