"Know him! Why, Uncle Philip, everybody in this part of the country knows him; he is such a shocking drunkard, and swears so horribly, that nobody can forget him; and what makes it worse, he is an old man, too. His hair is almost as white as yours, Uncle Philip." "Yes; he is just about my age. We were both born here, and I have known him ever since we were boys; and when we played together as children, over this very field which we are now crossing, or caught fish in the river down yonder by the rocks, there was not a more decent, well-behaved, handsome boy among us than was Tom Smith. Poor Tom lost his father when he was about twelve years old, and his mother, having no other child, indulged him, until he was sent to the city to go into a store. But Tom then, boys, had good principles; he neither swore nor got drunk. In a little time he fell into bad company, and they led him astray by degrees. He was so good-natured (as they call it), boys, that he had never the firmness to say _no_ to the proposals of his companions. He went with them to places of amusement; and instead of spending his evenings in his own room, reading, he was at the theatre, or dancing in some place, or at a supper with his young companions; and finally he began to play cards and billiards with them; while the inside of the church was a place which he never saw. He was cheated by his companions; and too honest he was then not to pay what he lost by gaming: he wrote to his poor mother, and told her the truth, as to his losses, and she sent him money to pay his debts, and told him to come home. He did come home; and even after all that had happened, poor Tom might have been respectable and happy; for his friends were all willing to forget the past, and encourage him for the future. For a time he went on pretty well, and married an affectionate and good young woman, and his prospects were bright enough: but one thing, boys--one single thing, ruined his comfort for ever. In the city he had learned _to drink strong liquors_.