The result, of course, was what he desired; everybody but himself had too much, whilst his mean sobriety, cruel uncle! enjoyed the calm superiority of temperance over tipsiness.

However, the lesson to me (though never intended as such) was most timely,--just as I was entering life to be forewarned by having been for only that once overtaken.

I have ever since been thankful for it as a mercy; and few have been so favoured; how many can truly say, only that once?
But I pass on, having a great deal more to write about temperance.

On my first visit to America in 1851, all that mighty people indulged freely in strong drinks of the strangest names and most delicious flavours: on my second in 1876,--just a quarter of a century after,--there was almost nothing to be got but iced water.

Accordingly when I was at Charleston I took up my parable,--and spoke through a local paper as follows: I fear the extract is somewhat lengthy, but as an exhaustive argument (and the piece, moreover, being unprinted in any of my books), I choose to give it here in full, to be skipped if the reader pleases.