This man told me that he was making a desperate effort to recover from a protracted spree, and it was the general belief that a diet of warm milk was the best treatment. It came to be a common thing for us to meet these haggard, wild-eyed sufferers, and help them to the milk cure. I have seldom heard of the treatment elsewhere. It was there considered a standard remedy, though I have never been able to understand the psychology or the physiology of it. A friend of mine who is quite deaf tells me of another experience with a new cure for the drink habit. He took his vacation one Summer on a steamer running from Buffalo up the Great Lakes. Among other supplies he carried a peck of good apples. I cannot say that apples are to be recommended as a cure for deafness, but to many of us they are better than tobacco for companionship. The first day out, while waiting for his fellow-passengers to realize that a deaf man was not likely to eat them up or convey some terrible disease, my friend took two mellow Baldwins, found a shady place on the forward deck, and prepared for a lazy lunch. He was about to bite into the first of his fruit when an excited man hurried up from below and began talking eagerly. The deaf man could not imagine what it was all about, and while he was trying to explain the newcomer snatched the apple out of his hand and buried his teeth far into it. My friend was reminded of a wild animal half-crazed for food. At this moment an anxious-faced woman appeared. The man turned to her, and with his mouth well filled shouted: “Mary, you’ll find it in the false bottom of my bag. Get rid of it at once.” The woman disappeared on the run, while the man finished the first apple and held out his hand for the other. Presently she returned with two bottles of whiskey, and, going to the side of the steamer, she deliberately threw them overboard. Then, while her husband kept at the apples, she made the deaf man understand. It appeared that her man was a hard drinker, though he was trying with all his poor enfeebled will to free himself from the slavery. He had tried many “cures,” but the only way to overcome the desire for whiskey was to eat sour apples when the craving became too strong. It did not always work, but frequently this remedy was successful. This trip was a vacation for him and his wife, and just before the boat had started some of his companions had brought him two bottles of whiskey, which he had hidden in the bottom of his bag, and he was waiting for an opportunity to “enjoy life.” All the morning he had been prowling about the boat trying to fight off the craving. Finally down in the hold he had come upon what he called a “funeral outfit.” There was a coffin—but let him tell it.