"I would no more sign a pledge not to drink brandy than I would sign a pledge not to steal," was the position he took. "I wish to be free to choose good or evil, and to act right because it is wrong to do otherwise. I do not find fault with others for signing a pledge, nor for abstaining from wine. If they think it right, it is right for them. But as for myself, I would cut off my right hand before I would bind myself by mere external restraint. My bonds are internal principles. I am temperate because intemperance is sin. For men who have abused their freedom, and so far lost all rational control over themselves that they cannot resist the insane spirit of intemperance, the pledge is all important. Sign it, I say, in the name of Heaven; but do not sign it because this, that, or the other temperate man has signed it, but because you feel it to be your only hope. Do it for yourself, and do it if you are the only man in the world who acts thus. To sign because another man, whom you think more respectable, has signed, will give you little or no strength. You must do it for yourself, and because it is right." The parson was pretty ready with the tongue, and rarely came off second best when his opponents dragged him into a controversy, although his arguments were called by them, when he was not present, "mere fustian." "His love for wine and brandy is at the bottom of all this hostility to the temperance cause," was boldly said of him by individuals in and out of his church. But especially were the members of other churches severe upon him. "He'll turn out a drunkard," said one. "I shouldn't be surprised to see him staggering in the streets before two years," said another. "He does more harm to the temperance cause than ten drunkards," alleged a third. While others said--"Isn't it scandalous!" "He's a disgrace to his profession!" "_He_ pretend to have religion!" "A minister indeed!" And so the changes rang. All this time, Mr. Manlius firmly maintained his ground, taking his glass of wine whenever it suited him. At last, after the occurrence of a dinner-party given by a family of some note in the place, and at which the minister was present, and at which wine was circulated freely, a rather scandalous report got abroad, and soon went buzzing all over the village. A young man, who made no secret of being fond of his glass, and who was at the dinner-party, met, on the day after, a very warm advocate of temperance, and a member of a different denomination from that in which Mr. Manlius was a minister, and said to him, with mock gravity--"We had a _rara avis_ at our dinner-party yesterday, Perkins." "Indeed. What wonderful thing was that?" "A tipsy parson." "A what?" The man's eyes became instantly almost as big as saucers. "A tipsy parson." "Who? Mr. Manlius?" was eagerly inquired. "I didn't say so. I call no names." "He was present, I know; and drank wine, I am told, like a fish."