The following is an excerpt from V. M. Metcalfe’s book Uncle Minor’s Stories. In it, the author warns against the use of alcohol.
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The man or boy who gets in the habit of drinking whisky as a beverage soon loses all respect for himself, and may soon look very much like the man in the picture. This represents a saloon—a place where they sell that which destroys both soul and body; a place where they can take an innocent boy, and by the time he is a man they will have him just as you see in the picture.
I remember a young man who lived in Hopkinsville many years ago. His mother and sisters were nice people, and they tried hard to get this boy to be a noble, Christian gentleman; but he got in the habit of visiting the poolroom, a place where many of the brightest young men of the town would meet to play billiards and engage in telling vulgar jokes. I was appealed to by the mother to use my influence to keep him away from such a place, but all to no purpose. He would frequently say, when I would talk to him: “Do you suppose that I have no manhood to resist the temptation of drinking and gambling? I am not going to engage in these things enough to hurt me.”
I pled with him as he grew up to manhood. He soon lost his many friends; for his mother, who kept him up as long as she lived, was now dead. He was seedy and dejected; could not get employment; no one wanted such a young man. Finally, one Sunday morning, just as I was starting to my appointment in the country, an officer presented me with the most pitiable sight I had ever seen. I did not know the young man at first; for his head was tied up, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes in rags. The night before he had gotten into a general fight at the saloon, and had seriously wounded one or two men. He insisted that I should become his bondsman, that he might escape confinement in jail. I at first refused, but finally agreed to act as his security for the sum of $21, I think it was. I had to pay it. I have lost sight of the poor fellow. The last time I heard of him he was out West. No matter where he is, he will never do well, and in all probability will fill an early grave, or spend his life in some prison. He is lost to his friends, and I fear is lost to a home above.
Take warning, boys, and shun that which brings shame, disgrace, and ruin of both the soul and body.
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This story is also included in the book, Rum and Ruin: A Collection of Writings on the Issue of Alcohol from Preachers Associated with the Restoration Movement.