Part 40

AMY: Is beer made in the same way?

MOTHER: Very much the same. When a brewer makes beer, he takes some corn, wheat, rye, or barley, puts it in a dark place, and wets it. Soon it begins to sprout, or grow. The grain is dead. He dries it in an oven to stop its growing, and the grain is then called malt. After this he mashes the malt, soaks it in water, and drains off the liquid, boils it, and puts in some yeast, which you know is made of millions of little ferments. They are like seed; and millions more grow from them. A dirty scum rises to the top, and alcohol has come to stay in the liquid. It is the alcohol that makes it taste good to those who like beer.

ELMER: But where does alcohol like this you have shown us come from?

MOTHER: By dis-til´ling wine or beer.

AMY: What does “distil” mean?

MOTHER: To distil means to fall in drops. See the drops of water gather and fall as I hold this glass of ice-water in the steam coming from the teakettle. The drops are distilled water.

HELEN: Is that the way they distil wine and beer?

MOTHER: They could hardly do it in this way, but men found that by boiling beer or any liquid having alcohol in it, and letting the steam pass through a long tube called a “worm,” they got stronger alcohol. You see the alcohol comes out in the steam, and as it passes through the long tube, or coil, it is cooled, and drops into a cask. The oftener it is distilled, the stronger it grows, that is, the more pure alcohol there is in it.

ELMER: But why do you call alcohol a murderer?

MOTHER: Because it kills. Strong alcohol will kill any living thing. Dr. Richardson, of England, has said: “There is no animal that may not be affected by alcohol. A pigeon will take opium enough to kill several men, and receive no harm; but alcohol will poison it. A goat can take enough tobacco to kill several men, but it can not take alcohol.”

HELEN: I once read of a minister in Wales who was drinking in an ale-house, and he gave some of the drink to a tame goat. The animal drank until it became drunk and fell down. The minister, too, became so drunk that he had to be carried to his home. He was very sick the next day, but the third day he again went to the ale-house and began drinking. The goat was there, and he offered it more ale, but it would not touch it. When the minister saw that a goat was wiser than himself, he was so ashamed that he gave up drinking.

MOTHER: That was a sensible goat surely. There are many stories which might be told about animals that have drunk alcohol, but, having learned its effect, would never touch it again. It is a pity men are not as wise.

AMY: I do like stories, mother. Won’t you tell us one, please?

MOTHER: Here is a picture taken from life. This coon is trying to get a drink of beer. A coon, like a man who gets an appetite for strong drink, will do almost anything to satisfy his taste. I once read of a man who had two tame coons. One, I am glad to say, was a temperance coon, and, though his owner had barrels of beer, he never tried to get a drink. The other by tasting learned to like beer, and he would do many strange tricks to get it. One of his tricks was to go to a beer barrel, and when he had partly unscrewed the tap, he would lie on his back under it and drink till he was dead drunk.

ELMER: I should think that was bad enough for a coon; he did not have as much sense as the goat; but I think it is very much worse when a man fills himself with beer.

PERCY: But, mother, how do we know that alcohol is a poison?

MOTHER: By the results which come from using it. Its first effect is to make the body feel warm, and the extra blood sent to a man’s brain makes him sing, talk, and feel very gay. He says things he would be ashamed to say if sober. He thinks he is rich when he is poor, and that he is very strong when he is really weaker than before. If he drinks still more, his feet begin to go wrong; but I need not tell you how a drunken man walks.

AMY: He staggers.

MOTHER: Now let us see why he staggers. The poison in the drink he has taken has put his small brain and the cord in his spinal column to sleep. As they control the legs and the feet, he stumbles along, and wonders why the sidewalk is so narrow and crooked, and why he can not go where he wishes to. This is the second effect.

If you should hold a little alcohol in your mouth a few minutes, it would feel numb. That is because the nerves in the mouth and tongue are put to sleep so they can not taste or feel. If the man takes still more drink, all his brain goes to sleep. When men are drunk, the nerves all over the body are asleep, so they do not know when they are in danger. A man may fall down on a railroad track, and he will not hear the train coming which will crush him to death. He may walk off into a river from a bridge; but he sees no danger in taking the step. He does terrible things that he would never think of doing if he had not taken this poison. He will beat his wife, kill his children, or he may commit other crimes that will cause him to be taken to prison. When the effect of the poison has passed, sometimes he remembers nothing that he has done, and knows not when he came or why he is there.

ELMER: I should think men would know better than to take so much drink.

MOTHER: There is no safety in even tasting it. When once this murderer has them in its grasp, they have no power to help themselves. One glass calls for two; two must be followed by four. The awful craving can not be satisfied till the man can drink no more.

HELEN: But proper food and drink do not make us feel that way. If I eat two potatoes to-day, I don’t want six to-morrow; or if I take two glasses of milk or water, it does not make me thirsty so I want four more.

MOTHER: That is true; and it shows that alcohol is neither food nor drink. It is only such poisons as alcohol, tobacco, opium, and those related to them, that create such an appetite. Alcohol finally brings its victim to the last stage.

AMY: What is that?

MOTHER: The man becomes “dead drunk.” He is not quite dead, but he is next door to it. He can not feel, hear, or see. His body is cold, much like a corpse. If it were not for his heavy breathing, we would say he is dead. Every part of the man he himself can control, has been handed over to the murderer, alcohol. But his faithful heart stands by him still. It suffers, too, but with painful effort it slowly beats, and the air comes and goes in gasps.

AMY: And does he gets well?

MOTHER: Sometimes, and at other times he really dies. It is an awful sight when a man by his own act brings himself so near to death. Not long ago I read of a young man in this town who drank until he became dead drunk. His friends who were with him put him in an old shed, and in the morning he was found dead. This murderer alcohol had gained one more victim. But there are other things this murderer brings to men. A doctor was talking not long ago to a crowd of school-children, and he asked them what would finally come to a man if he kept on drinking.