ll give account of _himself_ to God." If
others pursue a business at the sacrifice of character and of heaven, it
becomes you to avoid their crime, that you may escape their doom.

It is not certain, however, that others will prosecute the destructive
business, if you abandon it. Men of fore-thought will not now embark
their silver and gold on a pestilential stream, soon to be dried up
under that blaze of light and heat which a merciful God has enkindled.
They will not deem it either wise or safe to kindle unholy and deadly
fires where the pure river of the water of life is so soon to overflow.
In the eye of thousands, the distillery on your premises adds nothing to
their value. Indeed, should they purchase those premises, the filthy
establishment would be demolished as the first effort of improvement.
And every month and hour is detracting from its value, and blackening
the curse that rests upon it.

Let the thousands now concerned in distilling at once put out their
fires, and the act would cause one general burst of joy through the
nation; and any effort to rekindle them would excite an equally general
burst of indignation and abhorrence. None but a monster of depravity
would ever make the attempt.

But again, perhaps you say, _No one is obliged to use the spirit that is
made_. But remember, that you make it only to be used. You make it with
the desire, with the hope, with the expectation that it will be used.
You know it has been used by thousands--by millions--and has strewed the
land with desolation, and peopled hell with its victims; and you cannot
but acknowledge that you would at once cease to make the liquor, did you
not _hope it would continue to be used_. Indeed, you must see that _just
in proportion to your success_ will be the amount of mischief done to
your fellow-men.

It seems hardly needful to say that the foregoing considerations are all
strictly applicable to SUCH AS FURNISH THE MATERIALS for the distiller.
Were these withheld, his degrading occupation would of course cease. By
suffering, then, the fruits of your industry to pass into his hands, you
perpetuate his work of death. You share all his guilt, and shame, and
curse. And remember, too, that the bushel of grain, the barrel of cider,
the hogshead of molasses, for which you thus gain a pittance, may be
returned from the fiery process only to hasten the infamy and endless
ruin of a beloved son, or brother, or friend.

Nor is the crime of the