WHERE THE DRUNKARD'S MONEY GOES.
EVERY rag stuck into a window to keep out the cold from the drunkard's home denotes a contribution towards buying new suits for the rum seller and his family. The more elegance and ease in the rum seller's family, the more poverty, degradation and despair in the families of those who patronize him. The corner grog shop, with large plate-glass windows and marble floors, is paid for by the tenants of other landlords for such purposes. The more plate-glass and marble slabs there are in the rum shop, the more old hats and soiled garments must be stuck in the windows of their patrons to keep out the cold air. The more silk flounces upon the dress of the rum seller's wife, the cheaper the calico upon the wife and children of his patrons. The more spacious the parlor and brighter the fire of the rum seller, the more scantily furnished and cold are the abodes of those who patronize him. While the rum seller drives his $1,000 span, his customers cannot afford a five cent horse-car. From the bung-hole of every barrel of liquid damnation that is sold by the dram seller, there flows a constant stream of drunkards, criminals, lunatics, and imbeciles to fill poor-houses, houses of correction, jails and prisons; while blasted hopes, ruined homes, and paupers' graves are the relics of the trade. Every dollar that the owner of the rum shop and the rum selling tenant put into their pockets comes out of the pockets of the poor men, and is a dead loss as far as the public good is concerned. Worse than that, the more rum sold the more burdens there are imposed upon the honest citizens and tax-payers. The richer the landlord and his rum-selling tenants grow, the poorer becomes the landlord who lets his buildings for tenements and legitimate business. It is an undisputed fact that the laboring man who has a family cannot indulge in liquor drinking and pay his landlord and the grocer.—National Temperance Advocate.