The Portland Gazette

From the Boston Gazette.

THE CASUAL REMARKER.

The intemperate use of ardent spirits begins to disgrace our national character, while in France, Italy, Spain, and other parts of the world, intoxication is rare : every man who loves his country or his species sees with painful emotions numerous indications of intemperance exhibited in the countenances and demeanour of persons who throng our streets.

If inquiry be made for the most copious source of our domestic sufferings, for the principal fountain of family distress, it will be found in the decanter of strong drink, which is seen in almost every house. The access to ardent spirits is too easy ; too many invitations and lures meet our eyes in every direction. Almost every signboard tells us its OWNER is " LICENSED TO RETAIL SPIRITS;" and the more gentlemanly allurements of the curtained Soda-Water establishments, in all quarters, invite to intemperance, by affording the most palatable combinations of inebriating ingredients, and greater privacy in the use of them. Ardent spirits, is too cheap. The duties on them should be higher, and the price of licenses to retail them should be raised to a degree that would make grog-shops far less numerous.

If we are patriots, if we are christians, let us exert ourselves, and check this growing evil, whose consequences are disastrous enough to justify the poet, who wrote

THE WORM OF THE STILL.

I have found what the learn'd seem so puzzled to tell,
The true shape of the devil, and where is his hell;
Into serpents of old crept the author of ill;
But Satan now works as a worm of the still.
Of all his migrations this last he likes best :
How the arrogant reptile here raises his crest!
His head winding up from the tail of his plan,
Till the worm stands erect o'er the prostrated man.
Here he joys to transform by his magical spell,
The sweet milk of the earth to an essence of hell;
Fermented our food, and corrupted our grain,
T'o famish the stomach, and madden the brain.
What orgies the nights of the drunkard display,
But how black with ennui, how benighted his day!
With drams it begins, and with drams it must end,
A dram is his country, his mistress, and friend;
Then his ossified heart hates itself at the last,
And a dram nerves his hand for the death-doing blast.