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 drinking again."  Go  to  the  wretched  hovel  he  calls a  home  and  ask  his  wife  has  she  a  husband  and  she will  tell  you  she  has  two — saving  your  presence — "  One  (my  man  when  sober)  is  real  good  and  kind;  the other (my  man  when  drinking)  is  a  perfect  brute." And  if  you  care  to  stay  around  until  the  drunken husband  comes  home — oh!  if  you  have  tears  to  shed prepare  to  shed  them  then.  For  then  the  vitriol madness  mounts  to  the  ruffian's  brain,  and  the  filthy bylane  rings  with  the  yell  of  his  trampled  wife.  And so  they  go  on#year  in  and  year  out,  till  even  the  poor wife  in  sheer  despair  takes  to  drink  too.  And  so they  live  drunken  lives  and  die  drunken  deaths,  and leave  a  family  with  the  hereditary  taint — heirs  to nothing  but  the  besetting  sin  of  their  parents.

Lastly, drink  affects  the  drunkard's  neighbors. Oh, Bacchus  the  wine-god  does  not  go  unattended, but leads  in  his  train  a  debauched  company  as  mad and debauched  as  himself. And neither  does  the drunkard go  down  his  dishonored  way  to  a  more dishonored grave  single-handed  and  alone. When he drinks  he  drinks  in  company,  and  when  he  spends his children's  money  he  helps  to  spend  the  money of other  men's  children,  and  the  moan  of  his  heartbroken wife  finds  an  echo  in  many  a  miserable  home. I make  it  a  rule,  the  drunkard  says,  always  to  treat when I  meet  another  man;  and  when  I  am  alone  and take one  glass  I  feel  like  another  man  and  so  I  treat myself to  a  second  and  so  on. Go to  the  asylums  and prisons, and  many  of  the  wretched  inmates  will  tell you they  are  there  through  drunkenness  whose  first