Temperance | AdventAI

Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, Cal. · Aug 17, 1882

Temperance.

What Is a Glass of Beer?

A BRIGHT boy was lately apprenticed to the trade of a machine-maker. He had not been long at the trade before he was asked to fetch some beer for two men, who promised to let him have a share. James had no wish to avail himself of this offer, and told the men he was a Band of Hope boy, and could not go to fetch them drink.

"Band of Hope! Humph!" said one of the men; "we want nothing to do with Bands of Hope here; you must drink your glass of beer or you'll never be a man."

"Then," said James, "I'll always be a boy."

"Nonsense! You'll have a man's work to do, and will have to take some drink."

"Nay, nay, I shall never need any drunkard's drink to help me to do my work."

"You know nothing about it, for with you it's all to try."

"But I know that the strongest man in history, who was brought up under God's orders, was not allowed to have strong drink, and yet he became very powerful, and did many wonderful things."

"Who was that?"

"His name was Sampson."

"Ah! I remember. That was the man who, when he was locked up in a walled city, and the people thought he could not get away, got up in the night, and went off with the gates of the city on his back, which he had lifted off the hinges—locks, bolts, and bars included—and left the big gates on the top of the next hill for the people to look at in the morning, when he had gone far enough away."

"Yes, that was the man; and he managed the exploit and other feats of strength without any strong drink."

"Ah! but there was no beer in his time, and people are obliged to take some beer nowadays if they mean to do any hard work."

"Not so; for there is nothing in beer to make any one strong."

"Oh don't talk like that to me! I have worked in a malt-house, and I know something about it. Why, a boy like you ought to know that beer must be a nourishing drink when it is made from barley. Isn't barley a good thing?"

"Oh yes, if you only get it; but do malsters put the substance of the barley into the beer? How do they prepare the barley for the beer?"

"They first steep the barley, or wet it with water, and then spread it on the malt floor till it sprouts."

"Have you ever seen it sprouted?"

"Yes, often."

"Is it not beginning to grow when the sprouts appear?"

"Yes; the sprouts are the new barley coming out."

"Then the sprouts must be the life of the barley--the real substance of it?"

"No doubt."

"Then if the best part of the barley comes away in the sprouts, it cannot both come out and stop in, can it?"

"Of course not."

"But are the sprouts put into the beer?"

"Dear me, no! the sprouts are the 'culms,' which they give to the cattle."

"Then it seems the cattle get the best part of the barley. But is the malt boiled into beer when the 'culms' have been given to the cattle?"

"Oh dear, no! that would make sweetwort instead of beer; it is not proper beer until it is brewed."

"What becomes of the sweetness when it is brewed?"

"I cannot tell; but proper beer is not sweet."

"I have learned in our Band of Hope that malt is only the sugary part of the barley, and that the sugar, which would help to make fat, is destroyed in brewing, and turned into an evil spirit, which, when men drink the beer, gets into their heads, and makes them talk silly talk, and do all sorts of foolish and bad things."

"Well, I reckon it does."

"And what becomes of the grains when the malt is brewed?"

"They are given to the cattle."

"Cattle again! it seems, then, the cattle get all the solids, and the beer drinkers only the slops."

"I think, my lad, you've learned your lesson pretty well in your Band of Hope."

"I wish you would come too, for I am sure it would do you good; and perhaps you would not want to spend any money on beer. We were told at one meeting that the great chemist Liebig says there is more nourishment in as much flour as will lie on the end of a table-knife than in nine quarts of the best beer."

"Why, does he really say that?"

"He does, and says there is more nutriment in a five-pound loaf than in three hundred and sixty-five gallons of beer."

"Three hundred and sixty-five gallons!"

"Yes; and that agrees with what Dr. Lyon Playfair has said, that there is more food in as much oatmeal as can be bought for 3½d. than in 7s. 6d. worth of Bass' best ale. And besides, when we buy the oatmeal, we buy no mischief; it is all good, and no harm; but when people buy Bass' best ale, they buy mischief in the bargain." —Youth's Temperance Banner.

'I Had Never Looked at It in That Light.'

THERE are some people who have great sympathy for hotel-keepers when a town goes no-license, and the bars are closed. We met a man a few days ago who said, "You temperance people are depreciating the value of property; our hotel-keeper will lose $2,000 on his property if this town remains no-license. You will admit this, won't you?" "Yes, of course we will admit this, but my dear sir, let us see if this hotel has not been a means of depreciating the value of real estate. Do you know how much Carton paid for his farm ten years ago?" "Yes, he paid $10,000 for it, and at that time it was a bargain." "I was by there to-day, and I saw the barn doors were off the hinges, the fence down, the house needed painting; all along the tumbled-down fences I saw elders, briars, etc. How much would you give for it now; you are a good judge of property?" "I would not give over $6,000 for it; in fact, I would not want it at that price." "How did this farm come to run down as it has? Why, you know, Carton spent all his time at the hotel in the village; neglected his farm; has a heavy mortgage on it now, and it came from the hotel. Am I over-stating it?" "No; his farm has run down in the way you have mentioned." "How is it with John McLuney, Bill Allen, McCormick, and others I might mention? Has not this hotel you have helped to keep running been the means of depreciating the real estate of this town? Look at the farms mortgaged because the owners spent their time and money at this bar." "I guess you are right. I had never looked at it in that light before." We then commenced to figure, and at the figures this man set himself, we found on seventeen farms a loss of $27,000, coming direct from the hotel he had desired to keep open. He came to the conclusion it was better for the hotel to lose in value $2,000, than taxable property to the amount of $27,000. How much longer will it be before the people will see the wholesale ruin coming from the bar-rooms?—Sel.