The next spring father sold his Iowa farm.

Before leaving there an incident occurred that I distinctly remember.
The Iowa Legislature had passed some kind of temperance law, and the
people were to vote on it at the spring election. Our country lyceum
formed itself into a mock court, and tried King Alcohol for various
crimes and misdemeanors. Father was appointed prosecuting attorney, and
he went at it in earnest, as he always did at anything he undertook.
He sent for every man in the vicinity who ever drank, or who had good
opportunities to observe the effect of drink on others, to appear as
a witness against King Alcohol. The trial lasted three evenings, with
Increasing crowds. Father's adroitness in drawing facts from
witnesses--often against their will--kept the Audience laughing and
applauding. I remember hearing people say that he had mistaken his
calling; that he ought to have been a lawyer. On the last evening, When
he addressed the jury, he became eloquent. He pictured the terrible
effects of intemperance, the ruined homes, the weeping wives, the ragged
children. He denounced King Alcohol as guilty of every known crime--of
stealing the bread from the mouths of children, of robbing helpless
women of everything they valued most, of brutally shedding the blood of
thousands, and of filling the whole earth with violence, until the cries
of widows and orphans reached to high heaven. When he finished, the
house rang with applause. The attorney for the defense tried to reply,
but the boys said Mr. Butler had spoiled his speech. The jury brought in
a verdict of guilty. The election came off soon afterwards, and people
said that it was strongly influenced, in that township, by father's
speech.

The next May, mother, my little brother, and I, went to my uncle
Gorham's, near Canton, Illinois; while father went to Kansas to buy