A CONVIVIAL MEETING OF LAWYERS--HILARITY SMOTHERED BY THE MAINE LAW--A FAINTING WAYFARER IS REFUSED A DRINK IN A MAINE VILLAGE-- THE APOTHECARY DEMANDS A PHYSICIAN'S PRESCRIPTION--SNAKE-BITES IN GREAT DEMAND. Some years ago, I spent a few weeks of inclement weather in a beautiful village in southern Georgia. Upon calling at his office to renew my acquaintance with a well-known lawyer, he soon invited in the remaining members of the local bar. Everything was propitious, and the conversation never for a moment flagged, many experiences of the legal practitioners of the South and of the North being related with happy effect. I at length remarked that since my arrival, I had, somewhat to my surprise, learned that "local option" had been adopted in their county. An aged brother, in a tone by no means exultant, assured me that such was the fact. I then observed that I was not a hard drinker, but being a total stranger and liable to sudden sickness, I asked what I would do under such circumstances. An equally venerable brother, who bore the unique title of "Colonel," slowly responded, "Have to do without, sir, _have to do without;_ not a drop to be had in the county, absolutely not a drop, sir." The brief silence which followed this announcement was broken by the corroborative testimony of a more youthful associate of similar official distinction, and a genial and hospitable expression of countenance, somehow suggesting memories of old cognac. "Yes, sir, the use of spirituous liquors is now only a tradition with us; but I have heard my father say, that before the war, the indulgence in such hospitality was not uncommon among gentlemen." At the conclusion of still further cumulative testimony of the same tenor, I remarked that something about the general situation reminded me of an incident that occurred in a State far to the north while the "Maine Law" was in operation. A dilapidated-looking pedestrian, with a pack on his back, early one afternoon of a hot July day pulled up in front of the post-office in a small village in the interior of Maine. Humbly addressing a citizen who was just coming out with his copy of the _Weekly Tribune_ in hand, he inquired, "Where can I get a drink?" "The Maine Law is in force," was the reply, "and it is impossible for you to get a drink in the State." The heart of the wayfarer sank within him. "Would you let a man die right here on your streets, for lack of a drink?" The "better angel" of the citizen being touched thereat, he replied, "My friend, I am very sorry for you, but no liquor is ever sold here, except by the apothecary, and then only as a medicine."