She then read the following pledge slowly, pausing to explain every word which might seem hard to be understood by the younger children:—
"We, the undersigned, pledge ourselves to be truthful, unselfish, cheerful, and helpful; to use our influence always for the right, and never to fear to show our colors. We will always use our influence against intemperance, the use of profane language or tobacco, disrespect to the old, ill treatment of the young or unfortunate, and cruelty to animals."[3]
Nearly all present were eager to sign it; those who could write their names doing so, and the others looking on with great satisfaction while theirs were written by some one else. Thus a society was formed which, for want of a better name, was called the "Do Good Society."
Etta was unanimously elected president; four girls of her class were the officers. Meetings were to be held the first Saturday in every month in the Sunday-school room, on which occasions those present were to report attempts at carrying out the principles of the society as well as all successes in doing so.
To this society and its welfare Etta Mountjoy devoted herself, throwing into its concerns the whole activity of her versatile nature; making its meetings so interesting, and imparting to it so much bright life and activity, that it soon became the most popular institution in Squantown.
The society's first meeting was held one week after its organization. It was raining softly, and the grass was damp and the air chilly; so the children, nearly a hundred of whom were present, were glad to come into the shelter of the pretty Sunday-school room, and while swelling with the importance of being "a society," wait to see what "Miss Etta" would do when she came. The girls were getting a little restless, and the boys had begun to drum rather impatiently upon the floor, when the young lady appeared, carrying in her hand a curious-looking box with a slit in the top and a basket mysteriously covered down, which she deposited on the desk, not as yet answering the questions which were spoken by the many pairs of bright eyes before her.
The first thing the president did was to tell the children that they might sing "Hold the Fort," which they did with such extraordinary force and enthusiasm that they exhausted the excitement which was seething within them, and sat quite still while the basket was unpacked and Etta took from it a bottle of whitish-looking fluid, a clear glass goblet, and a pure white egg. Then she gave them a little temperance talk, reminding them of the sad death of poor Harry, which was known to them all, and telling them that even when people did not drink enough liquor to make them either stupid or quarrelsome, any quantity of it taken into the stomach injures it very much.
To make them understand this she broke the egg-shell and dropped the white of the egg into the goblet, holding it up and showing them how soft and clear it was. Then, uncorking the bottle, she told them it contained alcohol, the substance that is found in all intoxicating drinks, even the weaker ones, such as wine and beer.
"Now, watch," she said; and as she poured two or three drops of the liquid into the glass the interested eyes saw the egg grow white and hard, and at last become tough and leathery. "This," she said, "is just what happens when people drink anything that contains alcohol. The brain is a substance like the white of an egg. The alcohol acts upon it in the same way it has acted upon the white of this egg—it cooks it! The brain of a drunkard becomes cooked—tough and leathery. The man cannot think as clearly as other men. His mind becomes degraded." The children all expressed their astonishment, and after they had talked a little while, their teacher said:—
"I am sure you don't want people to injure their brains in this way, and so you will be ready to keep that part of your pledge which says we will 'use our influence against intemperance,' of course."