TEMPERANCE ANECDOTES ORIGIN OF THE WORD "TEETOTAL." THE word teetotal originated in this way:- -In 1833, Richard Turner, a simple, eccentric, but honest and consistent reclaimed drunkard, obtained notoriety as a speaker on temperance in the town of Preston, England. He had risen to the position of plasterer's laborer, and was honored with the distinctive title of "Dicky Turner"—having before been known only as "Cockle Dick," from his having hawked and cried that and other shellfish through the streets for a livelihood. While speaking at a temperance meeting on a certain occasion, he is said to have made use of the following provincialisms in a philippic against the moderation pledge:—“I'll hev nowt to do wi' this moderation-botheration— pledge; I'll be reet down-tee-tee-total for ever and ever." "Well done," exclaimed the audience. "Well done, Dicky," said Mr. Livesey, “that shall be the name of our new pledge." Conveniently embodying the sense of the new principle, it was eagerly adopted to express it; and being a few times employed in a paper called "The Moral Reformer," it soon became popularly established. The word teetotal, like whig and tory, has now become part of the English language, and is a familiar term all over the world. wwwww INTEMPERANCE INJURES OTHERS BESIDES DRUNKARDS. THE REV. T. P. Hunt, who has justly secured for himself the honorable appellation of "The Drunkard's Friend," in an address on Temperance, at Boston, asserted that those who did not drink, suffered more acutely, and more heavily than the habitual drunkard. And to prove this, he adduced the following painful proofs. One was the instance of a man who was strictly temperate, riding in a stage-coach. The driver, being under the influence of liquor, overturned the coach, and dislocated the ankle and broke the ribs of his passenger. That injured man some time before the accident had said, "O! liquor will never hurt me-I don't drink it." Did it or did it not hurt him? He then related the sad particulars of a painfully interesting scene which had taken place in one of the courts in Philadelphia. The husband had been obliged to bring his wife before a court of justice, to make her answer for her improper conduct. That wife had shone among the highest and the brightest, and there she had become a drunkard. Confounded and humiliated, she turned towards her broken hearted and dejected husband, and in a burst of repentant language, which pierced the heart of every one who was present, exclaimed, "O! William, forgive me this once, and I will never drink again." The agonized husband turned round to her, and in a manner which conveyed at the same moment ecstacy and doubt, said in broken accentsfor his heart was full, and his soul was sorrowful— "Sarah, say that again." She did so; the husband then ran to embrace her, and they left the court together to sign the pledge. Did not drink hurt that sober husband? Another instance of this kind was the following. The wife of a sober husband had become a drunkard also. She was connected with the first families in the country. Her fate, and that of her little babe, had been truly tragical: while in a state of intoxication, she with her infant in her arms had fallen into the fire, and both were BURNED TO DEATH! At one time that ill-fated woman would with a broken heart, and in strains of the most acute sorrow and anguish, lament her disgrace and her moral degradation, and at another she would defy the God of heaven, and vow that she would not give up the sin of drinking. Under the plea that she must make use of certain drinks in order to afford nutriment to her babe, she had come from the nursery a drunkard. That woman had contracted a love for the use of intoxicating liquor at gay and fashionable parties. Did not drink hurt that sober husband? In two months after, he went to his grave, the victim of sorrow produced by the drunkenness of his wife, and the melancholy |