This was the pith and marrow of the whole affair. “Rum was”—Well, what? Why—“Rum!” Every body was enlightened and saw clearly. There was not a shadow of doubt about the matter. Its character was not in the least altered—it was the same devil, only painted a little red—not at all improved either, by the artists—in fact, Mr. Camp made him rather more hideous by attempting to make him a facetious, jolly sort of a devil, without any evil quality, but much given to poetry, philosophy, and particularly, mechanics. His _inventive_ powers, however, were not brought out quite as clearly as Mr. Camp’s own, who, with a fine delivery and sonorous ring of voice, did all that it was possible for man to do in a bad cause—still he did not _do_—at least, not the majority there assembled. The whole affair was a horrible jest—it was—Yes! it was a Rum-joke—and nothing else. No one was hardy enough to attempt to _prove_, that Rum ever made a great man greater—or improved the mental calibre of a small one. Ever warmed the heart of a miser to do an unrepented act of generosity—or enlarged the soul to permanent and consistent acts of lofty heroism for the welfare of mankind. Ever filled the cottage with smiling faces and happy hearts, permanently—shed plenty upon the tables of the poor, or made a wife happier or children more respected—ever, in short, carried any thing but a concealed curse in its bright bubbles and brilliant hues. We came away with no change of opinion as to the deleterious effects of Rum as a beverage. Taken either at the social board, with jolly good fellows, or among wits, poets and philosophers—it carries the same horror on its front, the same death in its smile. Even the sounding-boards, from which the notes of Jenny Lind floated out, almost divinely, gave no music to the voice of Rum’s advocate—the best joke had a croak—and the laughter a horribly consumptive sound. * * * * * “THE SOCIAL GLASS.” [Illustration: “A little tipple will do us no harm.”] * * * * * “JOLLY GOOD FELLOWS.” [Illustration] “We wont go home till morning, We wont go home till morning, Till daylight doth appear.” * * * * * “A SPIRIT-KNOCKER.” [Illustration: A very sudden call by a very ugly customer.] * * * * * SWEET SUNNY ISLE. OR “MY BOYHOOD’S HOME.” [Illustration] COMPOSED BY JOHN H. TAYLOR.—DEDICATED TO MISS ELIZABETH TAYLOR, BARBADOES, W. I. Published by permission of LEE & WALKER, 188 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, _Publishers and Importers of Music and Musical Instruments_. [Illustration: musical score]