The cries, the blows, the curses, Entered into his ears. He saw his golden profits Blackened with blood and tears. He saw--as angels see them--the facts of what has grown The saddest money-making the world has ever known. And when he'd seen it fairly, He didn't turn and run! In a hurry to forget it! As many would have done. He wasn't built that way, John Sidney Donaldson. He took and thought for over half a year. And then he made his mind up--steady and firm and clear-- To sacrifice his fortune and say good-bye to Beer! 'You're a fool,' said brother Brewers. 'And mad!' said the world outside. 'I've seen ... _and I can't unsee it_,' John Donaldson replied. 'There are other ways of business that are happier ways and higher, And I won't make another shilling out of DONALDSON'S ENTIRE!' . . . . . . . . . . I don't say he turned pauper And slept upon the boards! But instead of a man with millions Heading straight for the House of Lords, He dropped to a man with hundreds--just heading for nothing at all But the prize that falls to the conscience which has answered a noble call. He is living now in London, Careless of blame or praise. Working to help the People In a hundred splendid ways. Pledged to the cause of Temperance To the ending of his days. What he did may be forgotten, or labelled a mistake! But the sacrifice of riches is a mighty one to make. I'm proud of this little Island that gave John Donaldson birth And I place him right in the forefront of the bravest men on earth!" Since I am quoting a few verses in this chapter, I may perhaps give, as a final specimen, a few sternly vigorous lines which were handed to me by my friend the other day. They express, he told me, his whole sentiments upon the drink question in a nut-shell. They are not in the least my own, but that is not the point--their interest lies in the fact that they represent Frederick Charrington's unalterable convictions in a succinct form. "LICENSED--TO DO WHAT?