for more and more he hears mysterious voices, and clearer and more clear
he sees apparitional forms floating up from the depths above which he
kneels. Whence come they, what mean they? He leans over the abyss, and
lo! the sounds to which he hearkens are the voices of human weeping and
the forms at which he gazes are the apparitions of human woe; they
beckon to him, and the voices beseech him in multitudinous accent and
heart-break: "Come over, come down, oh! friend and brother, and help
us." Then he straightway puts away the things and the thoughts of the
past and girding himself with the things, and the thoughts of the divine
OUGHT and the almighty MUST, he goes over and down to the rescue.

Such an epochal first moment came to William Lloyd Garrison in the
streets of Boston. Amid the hard struggle for bread he heard the abysmal
voices, saw the gaunt forms of misery. He was a constant witness of the
ravages of the demon of drink--saw how strong men succumbed, and weak
ones turned to brutes in its clutch. And were they not his brothers, the
strong men and the weak ones alike? And how could he, their keeper, see
them desperately beset and not fly to their help? Ah! he could not and
did not walk by on the other side, but, stripling though he was, rushed
to do battle with the giant vice, which was slaying the souls and the
bodies of his fellow citizens. Rum during the three first decades of the
present century was, like death, no respecter of persons, entering with
equal freedom the homes of the rich, and the hovels of the poor. It was
in universal demand by all classes and conditions of men. No occasion
was esteemed too sacred for its presence and use. It was an honored
guest at a wedding, a christening, or a funeral. The minister whose
hands were laid in baptismal blessing on babes, or raised in the holy
sacrament of love over brides, lifted also the glass; and the selfsame
lips which had spoken the last words over the dead, drank and made merry
presently afterward among the decanters on the side-board. It mattered