All those insensate doctrines make a few fanatics and hypocrites, but comparatively few serious proselytes, and, moreover, they tend to produce the most violent reactions. Besides, do not forget that your tea which you swallow in such quantities, your lemonade, and all the tribe of artificial and teetotal drinks, have made you bilious, old fellow; yes, bilious, dyspeptic, hypochondriac, morose, and crabbed; and you ought to know that no Divine law forbids us to enjoy the good things that Providence has strewn around us for our use, though the law of Nature does teach us to use them with discretion. You laugh at us because, when we are at table with our family, we do not scruple to cover our chest with our _serviette_; you are much amused at our commercial travellers, who, at a _table d'hôte_, bravely tie it around their necks, and set to work as if they meant to do serious execution, and you exclaim, "What gluttons! How they eat!" But you are a little bit jealous, dear boy, that is all. Yes, at table, we set aside our cares, we are happy, we talk and laugh with our wives and children, and make the pleasure last as long as we can. And if we have found the secret of happiness and gaiety, we inspire more envy than pity, believe me; and if you had not ruined your digestion with your tea and other unhealthy slops, if you were to forget a little of your insular dignity while you are at table, and make a little progress in your cookery, you would probably find that, after all, gaiety is an excellent thing, even if it should come from a good digestion. I know very well you will reply that your only aim in this world is to secure your salvation in the next. I know this takes up a great deal of your time; but as it does not prevent your taking a great interest in your banking account, and a thousand other little mundane matters, I conclude that, if you, like ourselves, hope to reach paradise one day, like ourselves also, you are not in a hurry to set out. Really, _do_ leave us alone with your tea, cocoa, and other salvation potions. Drink water, if it suits your taste; for England is a free country. But for goodness' sake, let other people drink what they like. Anyhow, take care: do not overshoot your mark. Drunkenness no longer exists in a deep-rooted, hideous form, except among the lower classes of your great towns, and this is a much better state of things than existed when Members of Parliament were called to order for putting their feet on the table in front of the Speaker. And it should be added that, thanks to education, even your lower classes are becoming more sober. As for asking for an Act of Parliament, to prevent peaceful citizens from going to buy a bottle of cognac of their grocer, it is utter folly. Finally, John, remember that one of your bishops, not long ago, refused to sign a similar petition to the House of Commons, saying that he had rather belong to a nation of drunkards than a nation of slaves.