"Deep under ground, materials dark and crude, Of spirituous and fiery spume. These, in their dark nativity, the deep Shall yield us, pregnant with internal flame; Which, into hollow engines, long and round, Thick ramm'd, at th' other bore with touch of fire Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth From far, with thundering noise, among our foes Such implements of mischief as shall dash To pieces and o'erwhelm whatever stands Adverse. Th' invention all admired; up they turn'd Wide the celestial soil; sulphurous and nitrous foam They found, they mingled; and, with subtle art Concocted and adjusted, they reduced To blackest grain." And now, to carry out the argument, gunpowder, and guns, and swords, are the gift of God, and men must needs use them, and kill one another as fast as possible. But nothing, it is plead, was made in vain. Spirit is good for something, and to banish it from use, and promise that we will "touch not, taste not, handle not," is contempt of the works of God. I should like to have seen what the Pomfret hero would have done with a man who should have stood before him, and said, Don't you destroy that wolf; God made it, and it may be good for something. Next, we are checked in our principle of starvation by a set of thoughtless youth and presumptuous men, who say there is no danger from the demon if we keep him low. All his ravages have been occasioned by his being full fed. Let him sip but little, feed him _prudently_, and he will do no harm. "Good," says the demon, growling in his den; "that is all I want. The doctrine of prudent use is the basis of my kingdom. Temperate drinking has made all the drunkards in the land, and keep it up in all your towns and villages, and I shall be satisfied." O the delusion! Prudent use! What is the testimony of every chemist and physician in the land? Alcohol is a _poison_.