"That's a fine fit of clothes you have, sir." "Yes," says the tailor,
"I put up that job; glad you like my work."
"That's a fine building across the way." "Yes," says the architect,
"that's my job and I am quite proud of it."
"That's a handsome bonnet you wear, madam." "Yes," says the milliner,
"that's my creation of style and I am rather proud of my work."
Yonder is a man intoxicated. He staggers and falls; his head strikes
the curb-stone; the blood besmears his face; the police lift him up
and start with him to the station house. Did you hear a saloon keeper
say: "That's my creation; I put up that job and I'm proud of my work."
Some one said recently in defense of the business: "The saloon keeper
deserves more consideration." This writer should know that
consideration has been the source of its undoing. Lord Chesterfield
considered it and said: "Drink sellers are artists in human
slaughter." Senator Morrill, of Maine, considered and pronounced it
"the gigantic crime of all crimes." Senator Long, of Massachusetts
considered it and called it "the dynamite of modern civilization."
Henry W. Grady, our brilliant southerner, considered it and said: "It
is the destroyer of men, the terror of women and the shadow on the
face of childhood. It has dug more graves and sent more souls to
judgment than all the pestilences since Egypt's plague, or all the
wars since Joshua stood before the walls of Jericho.
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