There has never been a particle of evidence presented to prove that teetotalers live longer than moderate drinkers; indeed, one doubts if they live as long. And it is well known that those races which refuse absolutely to drink do not produce anything of importance in the way of art; and surely they contribute nothing to the cause of science. Take the Mohammedans. Name one great artist among them, if you can, known to you and me. Had Americans been a race of drunkards, I could understand this sudden drastic legislation against booze. But we were far from that. Drink was beautifully taking care of itself. It was _infra dig_ to consume too much; and the young business man who made it a practice to indulge in even one glass of beer at luncheon, lost caste with his employer--yes, and with his fellow workers. He soon discovered the error of his ways, and no longer found it expedient to feel sleepy in the afternoon, when others were alert and thoroughly alive. It was only honest to give to the concern for which he worked the flower of his brain and heart; and so he passed up the casual glass, with little if any reluctance, and joined that great army of temperate men--and women. He did not wish to be left behind in the race for glory; and where he had taken, without a qualm, four cocktails before a dinner-party, now he took only one, and sometimes left a drop or two of that in the glass. I can recall the time, not so many years ago, when everyone drank like a glutton. Country clubs were but excuses for dissipation, locker-rooms were nothing but bars, with waiters running in and out with trays of refreshing drinks. (Alas! they are worse than that now, thanks to our reformers!) But this brief era passed--through the common sense of the people themselves. We did not require legislation to cause us to see whither we were drifting. Out of our own consciousness we knew--all but a few congenital drunkards--that “that way madness lies.” And so we quit, of our own volition, this heavy and stupid drinking. The “society fellow,” worthless from the beginning, was cut out; the man of sterling qualities and action took his place. The “lounge lizard” became a deservedly abhorrent creature, unfit for the companionship of decent men. We came, as I see it--and I have observed American life in many spheres--to a sense of our own foolishness. Big Business didn’t want the toper. Big Business scorned the young clerk who followed the gay lights along the gay White Way--the fool who sat up all night, taking chorus-girls to lobster palaces. With that alertness for which the American is famed, our young men realized that, to succeed in the realm of business, they would have to turn over a new leaf.