There is a common error amongst town-folk who prefer the above mixture that cider is not intoxicating, that it has no strength in it; but we regret to say that it is not only intoxicating, but we believe more exciting than beer: it is true that its effects pass off sooner. Drunkenness with cider would seem to be so far different than in the case of beer, in that while the latter makes its victim heavy and stupid, the former incites to motion, and leads to quarrelling, fighting, and foolhardiness. Hence, then, cider so exhilarates the farm labourer that he will do any amount of work if he is constantly plied with it, and all the while that it is but stimulating him, he fancies he is getting strength and vigour from it; but, alas! he is only thus drawing upon his capital; exhaustion follows a hard day’s work got over amid hard drinking, which requires the following day to be spent on the same high-pressure system, or else little will be done. Hence one of our own labourers, during barley mowing at so much _per acre_, was fain to confess that he “wanted a pint of cider at four o’clock in the morning worse nor any other time of day.” It happens, then, that as harvest work is wanted to be done expeditiously, it is let out by the piece, by which the labourer gets more money and more cider. But consider, my masters, that, when not under these stimulants, you can only expect from the workman a languid day’s work when the excitement is over; and too often, indeed, the poor man gets a long illness as the result of his forced, that is, stimulated labour, and, if not, such a system of drawing upon his capital—strength—is certain to end in premature old age. Seeing, however, that the labourer has got to believe that drink keeps up his strength, it too often follows that he concludes that the more he gets of it the better; and hence, as a rule, there is no satisfying him upon this head, and the result is, that the labourer too often keeps himself in that state of thirst and muzziness during his work that almost compels him to seek the public-house when work is done. Here quarrels ensue, and it is a wonder that manslaughter is not more frequently the result. Expelled from the scene of his debauch, he finds his way home, unless, as is not unfrequent, he is “found drowned” in the river by which he may have to pass. This is no fancied sketch, as it is derived from the sad experience of the author and the result of events in his own parish. On one melancholy occasion it was indeed sad to hear the Coroner, among other remarks, observe that full four-fifths of the inquests in a cider county were the result of drink.