Myself. Do not these court occasions often lay the foundation for other courts?
Landlord. Oh, very frequently: but so much the better, you know, for my business; and so I must not complain.
Let us next call at Mr. A’s, who has so fine a farm and orchard, and every means, one would think, of independence and happiness. But hark; there is a family dialogue going on between farmer A, his wife, and son.
Son. What; boozy so early, mother? and father too, and quarrelling, as usual, I perceive. O, I wish our orchard were all burnt down, and the distillery too, rather than live in such a bedlam.
Mother. But do you not like a little yourself, son, when eleven o’clock comes?
Father. Aye, and at four, and some bitters in the morning. We are old, you must remember, son, and require more to warm us and support nature than you do.
Son. If you would drink only moderately, as I do, I would not complain. For I am not one of your cold water scarecrows, I assure you. But to have you drink half the time, is what vexes me.
What a fine picture is here, my neighbors, for the men to look at who expect to reform the world by moderate drinking, without adopting the principle of total abstinence.
But look at the sheriff yonder, pointing about neighbor B’s house, from which he seems to be excluded.