As a note to this temperance rhyme, stands the following:

"CH. RULE.—All spirituous liquors should be kept under care of the nurses, that no drams in any case whatever should be dispensed to persons in common health, and that frivolous excuses of being unwell should not be admitted. Union Village, 1826."

"Slug," in the third of the preceding verses, seems to have been a cant term among the early Shakers for a sluggard and selfish fellow, a kind of creature they have pretty thoroughly extirpated; and presumably by such free speech as is used in the following amusing rhymes:

"The depth of language I have dug
To show the meaning of a Slug;
And must conclude, upon the whole,
It means a stupid, lifeless soul,
Whose object is to live at ease,
And his own carnal nature please;
Who always has some selfish quirk,
In sleeping, eating, and at work.

"A lazy fellow it implies,
Who in the morning hates to rise;
When all the rest are up at four,
He wants to sleep a little more.
When others into meeting swarm,
He keeps his nest so good and warm,
That sometimes when the sisters come
To make the beds and sweep the room,
Who do they find wrap'd up so snug?
Ah! who is it but Mr. Slug.

"A little cold or aching head
Will send him grunting to his bed,
And he'll pretend he's sick or sore,
Just that he may indulge the more.
Nor would it feel much like a crime
If he should sleep one half his time.

"When he gets up, before he's dress'd
He's so fatigued he has to rest;
And half an hour he'll keep his chair
Before he takes the morning air.
He'll sit and smoke in calm repose
Until the trump for breakfast blows—
His breakfast-time at length is past,
And he must wait another blast;
So at the sound of the last shell,
He takes his seat and all is well."

"Slug" at the table is thus satirized:

"To save his credit, you must know
That poor old Slug eats very slow;
And as in justice he does hate
That all the rest on him should wait,
Sometimes he has to rise and kneel
Before he has made out his meal.
Then to make up what he has miss'd,
He takes a luncheon in his fist,
Or turns again unto the dish,
And fully satisfies his wish;
Or, if it will not answer then,
He'll make it up at half-past ten.

"Again he thinks it quite too soon
To eat his dinner all at noon,
But as the feast is always free,
He takes a snack at half-past three.
He goes to supper with the rest,
But, lest his stomach be oppress'd,
He saves at least a piece of bread
Till just before he goes to bed;
So last of all the wretched Slug
Has room to drive another plug.