“You mean to say,” questioned Carl, “that individual contributions are made to make the country dry?”
“Of course. Where do you suppose these fanatics get the money with which to carry on their lecture tours and campaigns? They haven’t any money of their own to speak of, and the government doesn’t pay them. The government has its own dry crusaders.”
“Oh, I see,” Carl resumed. “These private individuals are making a good living by advocating, for a price, the doctrine that it would be a good thing for the welfare of the people and the country, if they were deprived of a glass of beer or wine.
“I have no objection to the abolishing of strong drink—such as brandy and whisky, but it is idiotic hypocrisy to believe that a hundred million people should change their custom overnight. Did you ever think it over? If the customs of a nation can be changed overnight, at the command of a few, what sort of stuff must the people be made of?
“I can see where an individual here and there could give up voluntarily a customary indulgence for a short time, as we often do around New Year’s, and then it is a matter of testing one’s power of will, but it is beyond conception to believe that an entire nation can be dictated to, and made to abide by a law that makes it a crime to indulge in a glass of four per cent. beer when the day before it was within the law to consume one hundred proof.”
“No, Carl, you haven’t got that quite right!”
“And why not?”
“You can drink all you want, or rather, can get. All the liquor you, or any other wealthy and wise man, may have stored away in your cellar is yours for the drinking. The law does not specify that you must not drink it. It is not criminal to try it, but it is illegal to sell or transport it to your home.”
“That is idiotic!” shouted Carl.
“But it is a fact,” came the retort.