{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p2", "byline": ""}
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ON by mixing in those giddy circles, whose eoa
communications sufficient 10 corrupt the most
innocent persons. Their talents instead OF be-
ing devoted to the cause Of their God. their
country, or the world, are suffered TO languish
amid the idle amusemsplsRf Metropolis, or
flash its dying splendon iI1& Genes OF debauch-
cry and drunkenness.
Turn over the pages Of Medical books, and
observe the long catalogue of diseases, both
mental and bodily, that grow out OF excessive
indulgence at the bottle. You will shudder al
the disgusting consequences that are eHumer-
ated as flowing from this deceptive fount of
Bacchus-you will behold the miserable victim
of its power. first worshipplng It as the source
of pleasure and enjoyment. Perhaps 1t may
have been resorted to, TO drown the poignancy
of despised love, to drive away sorrow, or from
some other cause. But the habit increases by
degrees, and the votary Of pleasure becomes the
confirmed sot. Then in the language Of Shake
speare he may cry:out, "Oh have lost the i'm
mortal part Of myself, and what remains, is
bestial 0, thou invisible Spirit Of wine if
thou hast no name to be known by, let us call
the Devil


Let the young avoid this circean cup, for in
the day thai they drink thereof they shall sure
y perish. Let them shun the resorts of the
idle and disspated, and follow after virtue in
the paths Of temperance and peace. Suffer not
the bright morning Of their youth to be over
cast by intemperance. Fly from the tempta-
goblet to your lips. How many young men
Of promise, have been overcome by her allure
ments. Suffer not yourselves, therefore, TO be
made sacrifice at the shrine of her idolatry !;
but rather choose to seek pleasure in joys of a
more permanent and virtuous character.
u- We commend to the attention Of our
fellow citizens who sell ardent spirits-the fol-
lowing graphic poem from the Portland
| (Me.) Journal:
| THE DYING DRUNKARD.
| BY D. G. coLEswoRTHY.


Rum dealer, ho!--desist! 4.
| II is the work of death,
! The voice Of anguish, list!
The drunkard's dying breath.


The dying drunkard, hear


For heavens hot curse he prays;


Oh is he not sincere?
| Look! On the dying gaze!
Gaze on him! Gaze! l says;
His awful anguish see!
| Then-if you can--away


To rum and revelry


God curse him. 1t is you,
! o wretched man! he means
| death laugh! Is it true,
He acts out real scenes?
i Red hell gapes wide for me,


With its damnaton deep;'


Internal agony


Oh, who can look-not weep.
Retailer why turn pale?
Why dread your work to scan2
Why should your spirit quail,
If you're an honest man2


He laughs again He cries


o, horrible to tell -


Now wildly rolls his eyes,
As if in flames of hell!
Burning dying II am
Burning save me !-Oh, save!-
Zounds murder Pm in fame =
Devils come! Hear him rave.
Now he is still-again
He starts and shakes the bed,-
Look-look-Oh God what pain
lis o'er-the drunkard's dead



NE WIS ITEMS.