this the poor fellow broke down, bowed his head on the showcase, and
cried like a child. 'Boys,' said the drummer, 'you can laugh if you want
to, but I have a baby of my own at home, and by the help of God I'll
never drink another drop.'" The man went into another car, the bottle
had disappeared, and the boys pretended to read some papers that lay
scattered about the car. Ah, this is only one out of hundreds of such
scenes that are being enacted every day in our saloon-cursed cities.

We should study the drink evil to see how it makes people poor and keeps
them poor. A story is told of a drinking man who related to his family
a dream that he had had the night before. He dreamed that he saw three
cats, a fat one, a lean one, and a blind one; and he was anxious to
know what it meant that he should have such a strange dream. Quickly
his little boy answered, "I can tell what it means. The fat cat is the
saloon-keeper who sells you drink, the lean cat is mother and me, and
the blind cat is yourself." "In one of our large cities," one day, "a
laboring man, leaving a saloon, saw a costly carriage and pair of horses
standing in front, occupied by two ladies elegantly dressed, conversing
with the proprietor. 'Whose establishment is that?' he said to the
saloon-keeper, as the carriage rolled away. 'It is mine,' replied the
dealer, proudly. 'It cost thirty-five hundred dollars. My wife and
daughter couldn't do without that.' The mechanic bowed his head a
moment in deep thought; then, looking up, said with the energy of a man
suddenly aroused by some startling flash, 'I see it!' 'I see it!' 'See
what?' asked the saloonkeeper. 'See where for years my wages have gone.
I helped to pay for that carriage, for those horses and gold-mounted
harnesses, and for the silks and laces for your family. The money I have
earned, that should have given my wife and children a home of their own
and good clothing, I have spent at your bar. By the help of God I will
never spend another dime for drink.'" South Milwaukee has five thousand
inhabitants. Three large mills operate there. A reliable business man,
foreman in one of the mills, told me that the laboring people of South
Milwaukee put $25,000 each month into the tills of the saloons. Dr. J.O.
Peck, one of the most successful pastor evangelists of recent years,
tells of a man who crossed Chelsea Ferry to Boston one morning, and
turned into Commercial Street for his usual glass. As he poured out the