An intense lover of truth, and a like hater of shams, he analyzed mercilessly; not for the sake of opposing, but in search of kernels and the source of things. If he found the tree was bearing, or destined to bear evil fruit, he would do his utmost that there should be left of it neither root nor branch. Accepting good in every presented form, if he suspected evil in the garb of good, there was no waiting for a more opportune time than the then present, for such stripping and exposure as his vigorous logic, sarcasm, wit, pathos, and personal presence could produce. Humble, and exceedingly retiring in ordinary, when the truth was assailed, or wolves in sheeps' clothing appeared, he became a lion, fierce and towering; and woe betake the man or system that then became the object of his righteous wrath. Such torrents of invective as fell from his tongue; such flashes as gleamed from his gray eagle-eyes; such scorn as glowed in his thin, pallid lips, made every one tremble—an avalanche that swept all before it.
To toil, of some character or other, he seemed to be destined. For no sooner did he find a little rest from the field or herd, than all his Hurculean energy was thrown into some cherished and waiting mental project. His life is an example of the statement that "genius is the result of labor." Neither did he travel in thought alone upon the surface of things. There were subjects, the philosophy of which no contemporary understood better; and upon the social and organic relations of the religious reformation with which he always stood identified, he was twenty years ahead of his confreres. He was a veritable Elijah in many things, but he was never known to flee from the face of his enemies.
His was a mighty nature; the soul of honor and the embodiment of truth.
There are two features of his Kansas life, which marked the man, that I wish to portray, viz: His temperance work, and his religious work. These were not in any sense divorced, as though they were not always righteously allied; but, as all know, the prohibition question holds a prominent place in the history of this proud young queen, with her "ad astra per aspera," and from the time she was admitted to a place among the sisterhood of States, up to the date that the comparatively little majority of 8,000 votes placed her squarely in opposition to the saloon, with all its interests and iniquities, he labored, watched, and prayed, for such a consummation. In this, as in his religious conceptions, he was always in the advance, running new lines and opening broad highways, and inviting fields for the less sturdy but oncoming multitude. As he had battled to prevent this, his adopted State, from being desecrated by the blot of human slavery, so now he voted, preached, lectured, wrote, that it might be delivered from the body and soul destroying curse of the rum power.
I have before me his temperance scrap-book, beginning with the proposed amendment to the State Constitution, March 8, 1879, and coming up to the time of his death, in which I find fifty-five newspaper articles written by him, of from one to three columns in length, presenting, in his own terse, humorous, glowing, vigorous, convincing way, all sides of this chameleon-hued question; now analyzing the amendment and the laws to enforce it, turning aside here to answer the cavil of some carping critic, then to demolish and bury some blatant political defender of the whisky element; arraigning the Governor, Senate and House of Representatives for their gingerly treatment of the great question, and sending a trumpet-call to the honest, brave, and sincere temperance workers, both men and women, urging them to greater vigilance and closer compact. These, with numerous short and pithy articles, added to all his sermons and lectures on the subject, occupying a much larger space and far more time, will give an idea of the labor of heart and brain bestowed upon this one question, during this one decade. We have room in this chapter for only one short article from his pen, as an example of the many, indicating how he felt, thought, and wrote during those stirring years. The title of the article is, "The Prohibition of the Liquor Traffic, The Constitutional Amendment in Kansas." He says:
This is, perhaps, the first case in which any government in the world has incorporated into its constitution a clause prohibiting forever the sale of intoxicating drinks as a beverage. This is a struggle in which the churches, the preachers, and the Sunday-schools are arrayed in mortal antagonism to the saloons and saloon-keepers. Both parties are instinctively conscious that this is a contest in which the issue is to kill or be killed. No truce or peace is possible. 'I will put enmity between thy seed and her seed.' The people are drawn into one or the other of these parties by a sort of elective affinity. One class goes with the churches and the Sunday-schools; another gravitates to the drinking-house. The one class are swayed and controlled by the law of love—"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" the other by the principle that governed Cain—"Am I my brother's keeper?" "Who cares?" "Let every man look out for himself?" "If a man chooses to make a beast of himself, it is none of my business."
One of the peculiar things connected with this movement is the fact that by far the most determined and effective opposition to this law comes from foreign-born and naturalized citizens. They have, so to speak, monopolized the liquor traffic; they are bound together by a kind of free masonry, and with small regard to whom they vote with, Democrats or Republicans, they give the whole weight of their political influence in favor of free liquor.
With here and there a notable exception, the Roman Catholic Church throws its influence on the same side; hence its church fairs are carnivals of drunkenness.
The two extremes of our American society do also largely join in this clamor for free liquor. "The upper ten thousand," those that arrogate to themselves that they are par excellence, the elite of the nation—albeit that their assumed gentility is sometimes but a shoddy or shabby gentility—make the road from the top of society to the bottom, and from thence to hell, as short as possible, by assuming that it is aristocratic to tipple.
When from these so-called upper circles, we go down to the bottom of society, what shall we say of that great multitude of men and women, crushed into poverty, helplessness and ignorance, groping as the blind grope in darkness; and who find in the dram-shop a momentary oblivion to their miseries?