when we say of a man in health, "He drinks distilled liquors temperately." Where shall we draw the line between the temperate and the intemperate drinker? A gill of spirituous liquors will keep one man drunk a whole day. He, since he is a drunkard, cannot be called a temperate drinker. Another man will drink, a quart or perhaps two quarts in the same time, and still not be thrown into the ditch. But he who drinks a quart or two in a day cannot, except by a gross perversion of language, be called a temperate man. Where then is the line between temperate and intemperate drinking? If there is no harm in drinking temperately, it becomes a very important matter to discover the point where temperate drinking ceases and intemperance commences; for intemperance is acknowledged by all to be an alarming evil. We see that the line of demarkation cannot be determined by the quantity drank in a given time; because what will scarcely agitate the hardened brain of one man, will make another stupidly drunk. What then is temperate drinking? and who is the temperate drinker? are questions that still return upon us with all their importance. Perhaps in the objection itself we may find a clew which will lead us to a correct answer. If there is no harm in drinking temperately, then wherever there is harm in drinking, there must be intemperance.

Now where does the harm begin? for at that point intemperance commences.

One gets mellow, as he says, to do him good. Another for the same excellent reason gets drunk. Another is sure that he is not a little profited by becoming intoxicated occasionally. A little gives a fourth a good appetite. All drink because there is, not only no harm, but some good, according to them, in drinking. One gets drunk now and then, because by doing so he saves many a doctor's bill. We would hint to such an individual a plan by which he will be freed altogether from the bills and pills too of physicians. Let him keep on drinking, increasing the size and frequency of the dose, and he will soon be six feet under ground. In the drunkard's grave no doctor's voice will reach him. He must however hear the sound of the Archangel's trumpet, and obey the summons, no matter how unwilling he may be. But notwithstanding the many advantages which the tippler discovers in his cups, no one would seriously call the man strictly temperate, who becomes intoxicated once a year or even once in five years. The frequency then of drinking does not fix the point after which we are seeking. Where then does the evil of drinking commence ? The question still returns; Where does temperate drinking in which there is no harm, cease? Where does intemperate drinking which is an execrable

evil, commence? What point separates temperate from intemperate drinking? We call upon the drunkard to assist us in answering this puzzling question. He has travelled through all the mazes of drinking from the first sip that draws the face awry, to the deepest dregs of the drunkard's bowl. He then ought to be able to fix, with perfect accuracy, the point which separates the temperate use of ardent spirits from the intemperate. When an interval of reflection arrives, when the fumes of intoxication are allowed to evaporate from his brain, when reason for a moment resumes its throne, when thought for a short time, steadies his mind; with trembling joints and sepulchral tones which bespeak a brokendown system; "Ah," he will say, "the first drop! Oh, the first drop! Beware of the first drop! In the first drop lies concealed all the drunkard's misery here; and in it are the dregs of that cup of wrath which he must drink hereafter! The first drop! Oh, the first drop! While it smiles in the cup, it hides in its heart the sting of eternal death! Oh, the first drop! That is ruin! He that avoids the first drop is safe. Frown the cup which contains it from your presence. Look not upon it but with disgust. The first drop! Oh, had I avoided that, I might now have been a man of wealth, of respectability, of influence, enjoying happiness here and hopes of heaven beyond this

dying life.' But now, having tasted the first drop, I have become a drunkard.” Tears might steal down the furrows in his cheek, while he described the evils of drinking the first drop; and the next hour you might see him intoxicated. His self-command was in a great measure stolen away by the first drop and those which followed it.

The drunkard has answered the question correctly. He has told us where the intemperate use of ardent spirits in which the evil consists, begins. It begins with the first drop, and continues with every succeeding drop which a person in health drinks. A single drop, as we have already seen, injures the person who while in health, permits it to enter his system. To use any article, at any time, in such quantities as to injure us, is to use it intemperately. Since then he who, while in health, drinks a single drop of distilled liquor, injures himself, (though he may not be sensible of the injury) he must use that drop intemperately. If a drop injures us, to use a drop is intemperance. He however who uses a larger quantity, because he injures himself more, is more intemperate than he who uses but one drop. Both use that which injures them, and therefore both are intemperate. You who love to be thought a temperate drinker, are perhaps displeased with this reasoning. But before you reject it, let me ask you; Is it not true? Does it not carry conviction to your mind?

P

Does it not challenge the consent, yes even the approbation of your understanding? If it does, then become temperate indeed by refusing to taste ardent spirits as a drink. The use of this article as a medicine is the only temperate use of it. If then we use it at all, let us use it for a medicine when prescribed by a temperate physician, and for no other purpose; because, for a person in health to use a single drop, is intemperance in a degree. We do not affirm that every individual who tastes distilled liquor as a drink, is a drunkard; but he is in a fair way to become one soon. He uses ardent spirits as an ordinary beverage, and is therefore in some degree intemperate; and no man can tell where intemperance in any degree ends and drunkenness begins. Let us all then drink temperately, that is, not taste ardent spirits except as a medicine, in cases in which it is prescribed by the cold-water physician.

IV. Of Knaves.

1. The knave who hates a temperance society as sincerely as he loves a little of the "good creature," whispers; "Weak men join temperance societies." The ignorant who know little or nothing concerning temperance men or temperance measures, catch the sound; and the burden of their song becomes, "cold-water-men are weak."