That night the wine flowed out like a purple flood; but the men and women who drank were people of culture, wealth and position, and did not seem to think it was just as disgraceful or more so to drink in excess in magnificently furnished parlors, as it was in low Barrooms or miserable dens where vice and poverty are huddled together.

And if the weary children of hunger and hard toil instead of seeking sleep as nature's sweet restorer, sought to stimulate their flagging energies in the enticing cup, they with the advantages of wealth, culture and refinement could not plead the excuses of extreme wretchedness, or hard and unremitting drudgery.
"How beautiful, very beautiful," fell like a pleasant ripple upon the ear of Jeanette Roland, as she approached the altar, beneath her wreath of orange blossoms, while her bridal veil floated like a cloud of lovely mist from her fair young head.

The vows were spoken, the bridal ring placed upon her finger, and amid a train of congratulating friends, she returned home where a sumptuous feast awaited them.
"Don't talk so loud, but I think Belle Gordon acted wisely when she refused Mr.Romaine," said Mrs.Gladstone, one of the guests.
"Do you, indeed?
Why Charles Romaine, is the only son of Mr.Romaine, and besides being the heir he has lately received a large legacy from his grandfather's estate.

I think Jeanette has made a splendid match.

I hope my girls will do as well." "I hope on the other hand that my girls will never marry unless they do better." "Why how you talk! What's the matter with Mr.Romaine ?" "Look at him now," said Mrs.Fallard joining in the conversation.