Next meeting showed the picture of a young man ruined by drink, and the two went forward at the close to set their names down.
“But are we never to taste it ava’?” they asked simultaneously.
“Never,” quoth the minister, “unless for a medicine.”
Nothing daunted by this the old couple took the pledge, and went home, taking a bottle of whisky with them—the which Janet stowed away in the ben-house press to wait on cases of emergency. More than a fortnight elapsed before drink was again mentioned by one to the other, when one night John complained of an “awfu’ pain in his stammack,” and suggested that it might not be safe to go to bed without taking just half a glass or so.
“O, man, John, it’s a pity ye hae been sae lang o’ speakin’,” said Janet, “for ’odsake, I’ve had sae mony o’ thae towts mysel’ this auchtdays that there’s no a drap o’ yon to the fore.”
An old woman, who was a rigid total abstainer, was very ill. The doctor told the nurse that she must give her a little toddy the last thing at night. So when night came the nurse said to her patient, “The doctor says ye maun tak’ some toddy.” “Oh, no, no!” whined the poor old body; “it’s against my principle.” “But,” remonstrated the nurse, “the doctor says ye maun tak’ it.” “Aweel,” replied the old woman resignedly, “I suppose we maun use the means; but mak’ it strong, and gar me tak’ it—gar me tak’ it.”
Tam Forsyth was one of those who went from bad to worse with the dram, and never repented of his folly. One night in going home the breadth of the road fatigued him so, that, coming to a quiet corner, he lay down, and was soon fast asleep. Some young fellows finding him lying snoring, resolved to have some fun out of the reprobate, so they gently removed him to a dark cellar. Getting some phosphorus, they rubbed it on their own and Tam’s hands and faces, and then awakened their victim. Tam seeing the state those around him were in, inquired, fearfully—
“Whaur am I?”
“Ye’re dead,” said one of the young men.