THE CURTAIN RAISED. A SKETCH. BY DR. J. H. HANAFORD. MUCH of human misery lies beyond the ordinary gaze of the thronging multitude, and is seldom seen save by those whose avocation brings them in contact with all classes of men, and makes them familiar with every condition in society. The victims of want, like the guilty, often shrink from the gaze of an unsympathizing world, preferring rather to pine in destitution, than to endure the jeers and the vacant stare of those whose bosoms never yearn over human misery. From this fact, there are not a few who sometimes suppose that there is really but little suffering in this "land of plenty," simply because they see so little of it, mingling, as they do, only in certain grades of the community. But could they step behind the curtain that often shuts the unfortunate out from public view, scenes would be revealed from which humanity would shrink back appalled. Let those who bask in the warm beams of prosperity, and who look on the “sunny side" of human affairs and human destiny, come along with me in some of my professional circuits. We will enter this dilapidated hovel, for such it is, though it stands nearly opposite a mansion where want never enters. As we wind along up the stairway, we instinctively hesitate, as if the creaking under our feet betokened a fragile foundation, or the dreary and sombre appearance unwelcome scenes, should we proceed. But we proceed on; a few steps more bring us into a darkened room-though the sun is shining joyously beyond these dingy walls-where a haggard female form is stretched on a pallet of straw. Pulling aside a tattered paper curtain, a blanched countenance is revealed, on which is depicted the impress of the "King of Terrors." The patient, exhausted from a loss of blood which her own guilt has produced, is insensible, and apparently about to breathe her last. The spoiler has been there, and the bitter fruits of disobedience are too apparent to be disguised; yet, in the hour of trial, he shrank from that fearful scene as the culprit avoids the pursuer, But the evidence of degradation, vice and destitution were there, illustrating to what depths of misery humanity can descend, and how certainly licentiousness tends to ruin, even in this world. It is a room from which one would wish a deliverance, if not prompted by feelings of humanity to minister to the wants of the afflicted, however degraded the sufferer may be. The countenance of those occasionally stepping in, as well as of those who seem to have the apparently dying unfortunate in charge, indicate but little solicitude, and still less affection. They move carelessly around, passing out unceremoniously, after a vacant stare has satisfied a morbid curiosity. It is evident that no mother watches over a wayward daughter, bathing a fevered brow, and soothing her last moments; for all stand aloof, as if fearing a contact with the gasping and trembling sufferer. No sister's plaintive voice is heard; not even the loved and cheering countenance of any bound to her by the ties of relationship or of long-cherished friendship. Indeed, it would be difficult to imagine a scene more saddening, more spirit-sinking than this fearful reality. A human being, one for whom a mother's bosom once yearned, in the sunny hours of childhood, before the blighting seal of iniquity was impressed on that brow, and one for whom the Saviour died, now struggling in the grasp of the Destroyer, and yet writhing in the still more fearful "bonds of iniquity!" But we may well turn from so abhorrent a spectacle, and leave the self-destroyer in the hands of Him whose ways are inscrutable, and who "ordereth all things after the counsel of his own will." That ghastly wreck of humanity once had known better days. Only a few years before, she had sported her gold watch on Broadway, mingling with the gayest of the gay, and boarding at one of the most fashionable hotels in the city. She was surrounded by the affluent and the refined, the pet of a doating and wealthy parent. To the casual observer, all was joyous sunshine, while a reverse would scarcely have . been deemed among the possibilities. But in an evil hour she fell, never again to regain her former position, nor her former comparative innocence; a sad illustration of the certain penalty of disobedience. Truly, the "way of the transgressor is hard." It is in vain to attempt to evade the consequences of a life of thoughtlessness and sin. The harvest must ever remain an index of the seed sown. And when females fall from virtue and chastity, the most fearful consequences almost inevitably follow. Although sufficiently direful when the offender belongs to the sterner sex, the penalty seems trebly appalling when visited on the head of woman. That she who, by her original constitution, should, when controlled by religious principle, cheer, restrain and elevate man, may be hurled to the lowest depths of degradation and ruin by her own vicious indulgences, is often, far too often, demonstrated by the direful vicissitudes of mortal life. ON SAYING "NO!" BY PARSON QUILL. ONE of the hardest words in the whole dictionary to manage right is that little word, No. It expresses the veto power of the human will. There are some persons who venture almost wholly to discard it. They find it a somewhat impracticable thing. It is true that it is not altogether a pleasant word. All varieties of repugnant feeling have played on its pronunciation. It has been made the key-note of passion, malice, obstinacy, discord, and a thousand other evil things. Sometimes it is a most resentful and offensive weapon. At one time it is as blunt as a bludgeon; at another short and sharp as a dagger. Sometimes its stroke has the force of a blow from the broadsword, and again it rings like a Damascus blade. Satire, Irony, Scorn, Contempt, all have used it. It is unquestionably the "best-abused" word in the language. It has gone through more conflicts where blows are given and taken than any other. It is like a war-veteran scarred all over with the marks of well-fought fields. It looks grim and stern, and its voice is harsh and somewhat grating. There is something in its eye, when it looks a man in the face, that denotes habitual command. It has an air of authority about it, and when it finds utterance, seems to claim the last word, and cut off all debate. After No! there is nothing more to be said. Multitudes regard it with such repugnance, that they resolve to have little to do with it. Some are afraid to take it on their tongue. It will not slip off easily. It is so unpalatable that, like medicine for children, it must be mixed up with a great deal of the sugar of circumlocution; it must be disguised out of its own proper identity. The man who can utter a plain, downright no, in the proper place and with the right intonation, is a hero and a wise man. He is king of one word—a little one, but the mightiest in the language. He has the veto power of a monarch, and no subject majorities can set it aside. Le roi avisera of the French kings is a poor, weak circumlocution, compared with it. It is an Alexander's sword that cuts Gordian knots, instead of puzzling to untie them. He that can wield it aright is sure to conquer the world, and, more than Alexander, be the master of himself. There have been times in the history of individuals and of nations when a no would have been worth more than a whole exchequer. If Bacon had used it on the proper occasion, the epigrammatic art of Pope would never have stigmatized him with the last epithet of that line, "The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.” If Sheridan could have said no with a life as well as lips that meant it, there would have been no necessity of raising money by private contribution to rescue his brandy-bloated corpse from the attachment of the sheriff, in order that it might be decently interred. If Benedict Arnold could have said no to his extravagant and raging passions, his name would not now have been gibbeted to everlasting infamy. If Napoleon could have said no to his ambition, at the right moment, he had never been cooped up on his islandprison-a second Prometheus bound to his rock, to be fleshed by the vultures of inward torture. If our own gifted Talcott could have said no to his ravenous appetite for intoxicating stimulus, his name would have stood by Webster's, on our country's annals. A large share of the fame and influence of Andrew Jackson is due, not so much to his intellect as to his eminent ability in saying, "No! by --.” Many a promising youth sinks to untimely ruin, from his utter incapacity of pronouncing that little word with the right intonation. There are some kinds of no-spurious ones, however that are no better than a faint yes. They are equivalent to a Yankee's "I rather guess." A sharper knows his victim by them. A no, at the right time, is like a shovelful of dirt on a dam just as the first grain of sand is about to be washed over. It saves days of toil and nights of KAKOPSIS; OR, VIEW OF EVIL. anxiety. A thousand noes afterwards would fail to replace that one, It might have been the sentinel of a lifetime, of an eternity. It stood between an Eden and a desert. It marked the Rubicon of a soul's destiny. The greatest battles fought on earth, and the noblest crowns won in heaven, are by the valiant use of that word no. Appetite is subdued, and Satan is vanquished by it. All hell quails before the resolute no of a man who means what he says. Like the oak folded in the acorn, whose essays, like Foster's on "Decision of Character," find their compendium in a properly expressed no. I have seen men who found it so hard to utter the word, when conscience told them that they ought to, that I have pitied them as I would have pitied Montezuma on his bed of burning coals. They could scarcely have withstood the politeness of the Frenchman's request to be permitted to insert his red-hot poker "so deep” into the living flesh. He would certainly have been paid for heating it. I have seen them change the shape and complexion of their opinions with their company as readily as the chameleon the color of his skin. I have seen them moulded like wax into a living contradiction. Sharp angles, I know, are not pleasant; but there are some matters in regard to which every man should have a diamond-edge, and that diamond-edge is a little thing-a no--but it cuts glass and stone. The man that repudiates it will never hew out the rocky staircase of achievement. You might as well attempt to hew adamant with a piece of dough. Every fiend may trample it with his cloven hoof, and he that treads last will have the advantage over all others. Some men seem as shy of carrying their own opinions with them as a counterfeiter his false notes when justice is on his track. I would send them to school to a rhetorician who should train them for years, if necessary, to the correct and appropriate pronunciation of no. It would be worth more than a fortune to them. It would be the best friend they ever had. It would make men of them, if that were not an absolute human impossibility. No man is yet truly educated who has not learned to say, in the proper time and place, the little word, no. Would you learn the bravest thing That man can ever do? Would you be an uncrowned king, Absolute and true? Would you seek to emulate All we learn in story Of the moral, just, and great, Rich in real glory? Would you lose much bitter care Learn to speak this little word Let no timid doubt be heard, When the loud laugh fain would daunt Oh! be sure you'll never meet More insidious foe: Strike the coward to your feet With Reason's watch-word, "no." Few have learned to speak this word When it should be spoken; Resolution is deferred, Vows to virtue broken. Than to stand where shots are fired May be schooled, and nobly ruled, KAKOPSIS; OR, VIEW OF EVIL. BY HORACE DRESSER, ESQ. 165 We have cast our eyes abroad upon the face of the earth and beheld its inhabitants rising in various gradations, from the stupid Hottentot to the refined and accomplished European, and which of all these tribes and nations and tongues do we find exempt from the curse of intemperance? Shall we not rejoice when we see that uncivilized man scarcely requires the aid of the temperance cause; that though he may worship false gods, and walk in the darkness and shadow of death, yet he bows not, and the smoke of his incense ascends not before the Dagon of Intemperance Alas for the boasts of civilization!-it is in civilized Europe and America chiefly that we find the votaries of this idol. The design of temperance is to destroy the temples of this deity of pestilence and death, not leaving one stone upon another which shall not be cast down. If we do not greatly err, the design will eventuate in signal success; for public sentiment, Samsonlike, has laid its giant grasp upon the massive pillars, and already they tremble. We have glanced our eyes upon the nations of the earth to numerate those who have fallen victims to this ruthless destroyer of the health, the 166 KAKOPSIS; OR, VIEW OF EVIL. view before us which beggar description. Our wrath has been kindled at the fiend in human shape whose accursed appetite for gold has produced such spectacles of woe. The man in whose eyes once beamed the fire of intellect, and upon whose lips once dwelt the law of kindness, is now seen to be a stupid sluggard at noonday, and a beastly bacchanal at midnight. His man harmony, and the happiness of man. We have examined the bills of mortality, and in the solitude of cemeteries have consulted the marble pages of Death's registry, to obtain accurate statistics, but the doings of Intemperance are unfaithfully recorded; friendship or pride has too often concealed the real facts. But the cerements of the sepulchre do not entirely bar us from ascertainment. We see no less than thirtysion, once the quiet and peaceful habitation of a thousand annually descending into the dust in these United States, whose demise, without controversy, is caused by intemperance. And this estimate includes those only whose habits are decidedly gross, leaving out of the amount that numerous host whose exit from life is from diseases and accidents induced by what is miscalled a temperate use of distilled and fermented fluids. Temperance, indeed, according to the true acceptation of the term, means more than simple abstinence from the use of fluids containing the alcoholic principle. That only is temperance which harmonizes with the laws of the God of Nature. In strictness, he only is the man of temperance who yields not to passions, appetites, and irregular desires; who disturbs not the grand concert of the universe with the dissonant uproar of vicious indulgence in the bounties of Providence. "God, in the independent exercise of his own high attributes, issued the decrees that determined the existence, form, and quali ties of all created things, and fixed, in so doing, the laws that regulate their modes of being and of action." Temperance is in accordance with those laws; its voice chimes in with the universal harmony; 'tis the music of the spheres, and heard only in the silence of the appetites and the passions. Those laws have required temperance of man. Let him violate them, and the penalty of death is not tardy of execution. There is no excuse-for of these laws there is a perpetual revelation. In the sublime minstrelsy of the Monarch of Israel there is truth as well as poetry: "Day unto day uttereth speech-night unto night showeth knowledge; no sound, no language their voice is not heard, but their meaning goeth forth to the ends of the earththeir sense is understood by all the nations." We desire to call attention to these laws, and to rescue man from the punishment which follows their infraction. In our glance upon the nations we have not only seen who and how many have fallen victims to intemperance, but also their wretchedness. Scenes of misery have passed in loathsome re tender wife and sprightly children, is exchanged for a shelterless hovel. His own intellects are besotted; his wife's are those of a maniac; and his children are left to the desert charities of the world. We have seen them half-clad, half-fed, their patrimony poverty, and themselves homeless in the highway to ruin. We have seen all this, and involuntarily our lamentation has gone forth, not to meet a corresponding sympathy in him who is the cause, but to bring down upon us his broad and lengthened laugh. We have looked upon the large cities and vil lages which checker the maps of the Old and New World, and have seen their inhabitants escape to the mountains for safety, while a fearful anxiety broods upon their spirits. We have passed their streets and seen the ensigns of woe, and beheld the habiliments of the sepulchre, and asked, in amazement, what was the direful agent of all that grief and sorrow so visible! We have inquired into the meaning of those military cordons and quarantine laws, and learned that civil authorities would fain believe that an insidious enemy, a pestilence waging a war of extermination upon the multifold forms of intemperance, could be stayed by such mock barriers! Oh, the folly and short-sightedness of man! Why not return to first principles, and obey the plain laws of nature! What meaneth that scene of riot and debauchery? Behold that black and gloomy pillar of smoke in the distance, an unhallowed presence marking the spot where resteth the ark of intemperance! Behold that tem ple of horrors, the direful, death-dispensing distillery! We have run our eyes over every place upon the globe where the Demon of Intemperance holds dominion, and marked how the breath of his nostrils hath withered the strength and scathed the morals and intellect of man. Nowhere has he foothold but we have evidence of his absolute despotism. His throne is of broken hearts cemented with tears. His code of laws, like Draco's, is written in blood. Its enactments are: Thou shalt have no other gods thau Moloch and Belial; Thou shalt deride the name of the KAKOPSIS; OR, VIEW OF EVIL. Christian's Lord and God; No day shalt thou keep holy; Thou shalt do no labor; Dishonor thy father and thy mother; Thou shalt kill; Thou shalt commit adultery; Thou shalt steal; Thou shalt bear false witness against thy neighbor. Diseases are the ministers of his unholy cabinet-his premier is Death! We have gazed upon all these spectacles and beheld the sufferings which flow from intemperance, and we ask, Who will deny the benevolence of a cause whose object is to rid the earth of a plague so abominable? That object will not be achieved till the smoke of the distillery shall have for ever ceased to hang the heavens in black; till merchandising with alcohol shall have become contraband; till a glorious moral millennium shall have commenced its reign, and the condition of man shall remind of the happiness of Eden. That object will not have been attained till the last dram-shop, with its paraphernalia, shall have ceased to be legalized, and the public voice in a peal of thunder shall be heard from the river to the ends of the earth, saying, The mother of harlots and abominations of the earth is no more for ever! How different will then be the features of society! We cannot but believe that then murders, and robberies, and suicides will have ceased; the cells of the prison-house lack for tenants, and the sword of justice sleep in its scabbard. Pauperism will have cast away its tattered garments, and go forth in the midst of plenty. Disease will have been shorn of its locks and be bound with the thread of goseamer. Death will have lost the keenness of its sting, and the grave its mightiest means of victory! In short, place before us a scene in which are blended all the ingredients of happiness, and contrast it with such other as intemperance frequently presents, and we say that the object of the temperance cause is to change that scene of dissipation into one as comely and beautiful as the other. In an enterprise of so much moment to the destinies of man, we despair lot of success. We take courage, for we see enisted in this cause the first talents, much of the wealth, and most of the respectability of the And. Moreover, it is this land which may boast ff the high honor of being first in the cause of tmperance. We are encouraged, because some o the nations of Europe too are awakening from their slumbers, and entering the lists to do battle with the foe. 167 course of that moral current whose channel is worn deep and wide as that in which flow the sentiments of a large mass of the community, is not the work of a moment or of remitted exertion. The doctrines of temperauce conflict with customs and usages sanctioned by time, and in harmony with the popular voice. Against them rise up prejudices which close the avenues to reason and the citadel of the heart. These sentinels are vigilant as the Hesperides, and none can pluck the golden apples save some laborious Hercules. In many, habit has wrought an unalterable bias, and the strength of a second nature has become incorporated with their moral faculties. Its aim is to soften the asperities of those prejudices, and to produce in those habits a change, radical and complete. It calls men to listen to the voice of Nature, and to yield willing obedience to every iota of her laws. It appeals to all men, here and everywhere; it sends greeting to all tribes and tongues and nations under the the whole heaven. Commerce and the arts are penetrating every corner of the habitable globe. Would that there went along with them only their benefits! But, alas! melancholy is the fact, that in their train are borne along the vices whose name is legion. The tribes of the red man, and the clans of distant islanders, have already exhibited the effects of the unholy traffic in the products of the alembic. If possible, temperance must keep pace, and not permit the bane to become more widespread than the antidote. A fiery meteor hath shot athwart the moral firmament, ominous of something; that meteor is Intemperance, and its omen Death! The temperance cause comes in collision not only with the prejudices, but with the avarice and interests of men. Could those fountains be dried up which sparkle only to deceive and charm the unwary to lave in their delusive waves, soon might be recorded its triumphant and glorious consummation. We marvel not, therefore, that Gain and its votaries should attempt its discomfiture. Their voices are heard in praises to the greatness of their Diana; the craft is in danger; their shrines no longer cheat the credulity of man. Hence that voice so loud and lengthened as it comes borne along on the passing breeze. An enterprise so directly in opposition to the habits, the prejudices, and the sordid interests of A revolution of public sentiment such as we man, needs the application of means corresponddesire is not to be effected, however, withouting in energy and wisdom with the strength and great and constant endeavor. To change the "subtlety of the enemy assailed. The triple |