I remember when the Volstead Act first went into effect that I had a serious talk with myself. I came to the conclusion that nothing was more dangerous to this land of ours than a state of things which made it possible for the rich to drink continuously and the poor to be able to obtain nothing. I felt that I could not, with a clear conscience, go on having an occasional cocktail, if the laboring man down the street was deprived of his grog. For a month I absolutely followed the whisperings of that Inner Voice. Then I happened to go to a manufacturing town near Boston, and the work I was doing brought me into contact with the men in the shops there. Somehow the subject came up--I forget in just what way; and when my plan became known, a laugh greeted my ears. “Don’t be such a jackass!” one of the fellows cried. “Why, we’re getting all we want, in spite of Mr. Volstead--we’re making it ourselves!” My self-inflicted martyrdom ceased from that moment; and I must confess that I felt a bit foolish. More people are drinking heavily now than in the old days--and, drinking inferior stuff, they are suffering more in consequence. The results of this have been put into a delightful rhyme by the clever James J. Montague who, in his way, is a genius. He turns out happy and technically fine verses every day for a syndicate, until one is amazed at his cleverness and seemingly endless chain of ideas. Listen to him: _THE ELUSIVE MORAL_ Before there was a Volstead law The village gossips used to mutter In pitying accents when they saw A friend and neighbor in the gutter: “How dreadful was the fellow’s fall! How terrible is his condition! He wouldn’t be that way at all If only we had prohibition!” They knew the drunkards all by name, And when they came around with edges Some elderly and kindly dame Would get their signatures to pledges. And if they all appeared next day Still far too merry and seraphic, The troubled townsfolk used to say Hard things about the liquor traffic. To-day, when some good man goes wrong, The villagers with whom he’s mingled Observe his frequent bursts of song And thus discover he is jingled. “Too bad about that chap,” they cry, “He might have kept his high position If Volstead hadn’t made us dry-- What ruined _him_ is prohibition!” There is some moral in this tale-- I fancied so when I designed it-- But I have searched without avail For nearly half an hour to find it! CHAPTER VII A TRIUMVIRATE AGAINST PROHIBITION How many Americans know that on August 6, 1833, Abraham Lincoln, with two other men, took out a license to sell liquor? Through the kindness of my friend, William L. Fish, I am permitted to reproduce it (see page 84). Times were different then, it is true; but one has the feeling that Abraham Lincoln was not a Prohibitionist. He was temperate in all things. [Illustration: (liquor license)]