revelry, "but the dead were there," men dead to virtue, true honor and
rectitude, who walked the streets as other men, laughed, chatted,
bought, sold, exchanged and bartered, but whose souls were encased in
living tombs, bodies that were dead to righteousness but alive to sin.
Like a spider weaving its meshes around the unwary fly, John Anderson
wove his network of sin around the young men that entered his saloon.
Before they entered there, it was pleasant to see the supple vigor and
radiant health that were manifested in the poise of their bodies, the
lightness of their eyes, the freshness of their lips and the bloom upon
their cheeks. But Oh! it was so sad to see how soon the manly gait would
change to the drunkard's stagger. To see eyes once bright with
intelligence growing vacant and confused and giving place to the
drunkard's leer. In many cases lassitude supplanted vigor, and sickness
overmastered health. But the saddest thing was the fearful power that
appetite had gained over its victims, and though nature lifted her
signals of distress, and sent her warnings through weakened nerves and
disturbed functions, and although they were wasting money, time,
talents, and health, ruining their characters, and alienating their
friends, and bringing untold agony to hearts that loved them and yearned
over their defections, yet the fascination grew stronger and ever and
anon the grave opened at their feet; and disguise it as loving friends
might, the seeds of death had been nourished by the fiery waters of
alcohol.




Chapter V