Brooks's death: "I knew Phillips Brooks only by character and his writings. He was one of those men whom you feel you ought to have known, and regret that you did not. His truly broad catholic heart, and splendid, luminous intellect have left their impression for good on the whole country." It was not an ecclesiastic, but a physician, novelist, and poet, Dr. Weir Mitchell, also a dear friend of Phillips Brooks, who wrote of him, "I have known a number of men we call great, poets, statesmen, soldiers, — but Phillips was the only one I ever knew who seemed to me entirely great." The generation that knew him not must take the word of that which knew him. Those who cannot hear his voice when they read his sermons may not care to read them. Indeed the reading of any sermons is an obsolescent pastime. But the voice of tolerance is one to which the world is bound to listen more and more, and in that voice Phillips Brooks, through a far-extending influence, will long be heard.

III

THE LONG DRIVE FOR TEMPERANCE

WITH THE HELP OF FRANCES E. WILLARD

AND surely it is time (yea more than tyme) that we should foresee, and learne to avoyde, those Mermaydes of myschiefe, which pype so pleasantly in every Potte, that men be thereby allured to sayle into the Ilandes of all evyle.

WITH all the authority of a tosspot famous in his day George Gascoigne wrote these words in A delicate Diet, for daintiemouthde Droonkardes - as long ago as 1576. Let us not go back so far, however, to recover a still more significant reminder that the perils attending the intemperate use of intoxicating drink have been realized for a long time even here in America, and, furthermore, that national prohibition was not suddenly "put over" on the American public. This reminder is found in words ascribed to Abraham Lincoln on the very day of his assassination: "After reconstruction the next great work before us is the prohibition of the liquor traffic in all the States and Territories." Did he really say this? According to the Honorable Charles E. Littlefield of Maine, speaking at the dedication

of the statue to Frances E. Willard in the national Capitol on February 17, 1905, he did. But the historical evidence in support of any such definite statement is unsatisfying. What cannot be questioned is that as early as 1842, in a temperance speech at Springfield, Illinois, on Washington's Birthday, Lincoln had rejoiced in the prospect of a day "when there shall be neither a slave nor a drunkard on the earth," and on the same occasion made this characteristic utterance: "Let us make it as unfashionable to withhold our names from the temperance cause as for husbands to wear their wives' bonnets to church, and instances will be just as rare in the one case as in the other." The claims of the advocates of temperance that Lincoln was with them, in principle and practice, rest indeed upon a firm foundation.

The drive for this cause, engaging many ardent workers before and during Lincoln's association with it, experienced more than one burst of momentum in his lifetime. In the sixty years since his death, prohibition has become -with consequences become—with which he could hardly have foreseen the land. In bringing this to pass the women of the country, notably personified in Frances E. Willard, have borne an important part. The story now to be told has to do with the cause both before and

the law of

after her identification with it, and also with the strange personal force of that identification.

I

The problem of drink and its effect upon society appears to have caused no particular anxiety until the use of distilled, rather than fermented, liquors became general. In England gin - or Geneva waters, so named not from the city of Calvin, the Red Cross, and the League of Nations, but from a word signifying juniper - was the greatest troublemaker. Home-brewed gin became so cheap in the eighteenth century that spirit-bars in London are said to have displayed signs inviting the passer-by to be “drunk for one penny," or "dead drunk for 2d," with the generous provision for "sleeping it off" on "straw for nothing." In these conditions it can hardly be questioned that liquor legislation became a need of the times. In the New World penalties had already been made to fit the crime. The Massachusetts Colony records as early as 1634 tell of one Robert Coles sentenced for drunkenness "to be disfranchised," - a modern paraphrase of the verdict is quoted, — “and to wear about his neck, and to hang about his outer garment a D made of red cloth, set upon white, to continue for a year and not to leave it off at any time when he