"Well, sir," said H., "allow me to inform you, that in your arguments you deviated from the proposition I made, namely--that liquor as a means is conducive to human happiness. I mean the proper use of it; but you immediately darted off to the furthest extremity of the subject, and by a sort of superlative sophistry of your own, you attempted to conjure up a horrid array of evils arising from the abuse of that spiritual gift, which is the very essence of those cereals designed by the Author of Creation as the principal sustainer of animal life." "You accuse me, sir, of doing injustice to your proposition, by representing the consequences of abusing that spiritual gift, as you very improperly term it," said Fred. "Your proposition, let me tell you, embraces only the germs; but I look forward to the fruits thereof. He would be but a very foolish farmer indeed, who would sow tares or imperfect seed for the mere pleasure of seeing his fields adorned with verdure, without looking forward to the consequences. Every good farmer anticipates an abundant harvest and accordingly sows the best seed. So should every man who desires to reap a harvest of happiness. He should look well to the seed, and sow only that which will eventually produce the best results. Again, you say that liquor when used in moderation, is a means of producing human happiness, and therefore should be used. I beg to differ with you; happiness arises not from the animal impulses of human nature stimulated by intoxicating liquor. Use it moderately you say. Alas, how many millions have been ruined forever by the taking of only one single glass at first, _only one glass_! Think of it! It is the magnet that attracts material akin to itself; alas, what a world of wretchedness and crime is reflected from that nucleus of Intemperance." "Hold on, hold on, Fred," ejaculated Jenkins, "that'll do for the present." "Go on, Fred, your illustrations are beautiful and impressive," cried Stevens, "go on, you are hitting the target at every shot." "For goodness sake, Fred, do stop; or you will convert us all into a company of 'cold water-boys,'" cried Jenkins. "Come! come, my lads," exclaimed Haveril, "we'll wind up for the present with a bumper of 'hot Scotch' and I'll pay for the drinks." "Hot Scotch! hot Scotch!" shouted a half dozen of voices--and having partaken of a rousing bumper they called upon Fred to favor them with a song, to which he responded in the following Temperance Song, entitled "One Glass More." Behold yon wretch at the tavern-bar: His matted hair hangs over his brow; The manly form and the noble soul Are wrecked and lost in the drunkard now. He shivering stands in his dirty rags, With bloated face and his blood-shot eyes; With quivering lips and a fever'd breath For one glass more how he pleading cries.