III. _Surly Drunkard._—Some men are not excited to mirth by intoxication: on the contrary, it renders them gloomy and discontented. Even those who in the sober state are sufficiently gay, become occasionally thus altered. A great propensity to take offence is a characteristic among persons of this temperament. They are suspicious, and very often mischievous. If at some former period they have had a difference with any of the company, they are sure to revive it, although, probably, it has been long ago cemented on both sides, and even forgotten by the other party. People of this description are very unpleasant companions. They are in general so foul-tongued, quarrelsome, and indecent in conversation, that established clubs of drinkers have made it a practice to exclude them from their society. IV. _Phlegmatic Drunkard._—Persons of this temperament are heavy-rolling machines, and, like the above, are not roused to mirth by liquor. Their vital actions are dull and spiritless—the blood in their veins as sluggish as the river Jordan, and their energies stagnant as the Dead Sea. They are altogether a negative sort of beings, with passions too inert to lead them to any thing very good or very bad. They are a species of animated clods, but not thoroughly animated—for the vital fire of feeling has got cooled in penetrating their frozen frames. A new Prometheus would require to breathe into their nostrils, to give them the ordinary glow and warmth of humanity. Look at a phlegmatic man—how dead, passionless, and uninspired is the expression of his clammy lips and vacant eye! Speak to him—how cold, slow, and tame is his conversation! the words come forth as if they were drawn from his mouth with a pair of pincers; and the ideas are as frozen as if concocted in the bowels of Lapland. Liquor produces no effect upon his mental powers; or, if it does, it is a smothering one. The whole energies of the drink fall on his almost impassive frame. From the first, his drunkenness is stupifying; he is seized with a kind of lethargy, the white of his eyes turns up, he breathes loud and harshly, and sinks into an apoplectic stupor. Yet all this is perfectly harmless, and wears away without leaving any mark behind it. Such persons are very apt to be played upon by their companions. There are few men who, in their younger days have not assisted in shaving the heads and painting the faces of these lethargic drunkards. V. _Nervous Drunkard._—This is a very harmless and very tiresome personage. Generally of a weak mind and irritable constitution, he does not become boisterous with mirth, and rarely shows the least glimmering of wit or mental energy. He is talkative and fond of long-winded stories, which he tells in a drivelling, silly manner. Never warmed into enthusiasm by liquor, he keeps chatting at some ridiculous tale, very much in the way of a garrulous old man in his dotage.[10]