Benjamin soon found his old friend, John Collins; and there was mutual satisfaction in their meeting. As soon, however, as the first pleasure of meeting was over, Benjamin discovered that his friend had become intemperate, and he was both surprised and grieved. However, he gratified John with a detailed account of his experience, from the time they separated, not omitting a glowing description of his prospects in Philadelphia.
"How soon will you return?" John inquired.
"I want to leave here within two weeks if I can. I ought not to stay but a week."
"How will it do for me to return with you?"
"I think it will do well if you stick closely to business. That is the only way we can succeed in any thing."
"I can do that. Work never hurt me, or any thing else." John did not take the hint in Benjamin's last remark.
"But strong drink has hurt a great many. I should never expect to succeed in any thing if I used it as many do."
"Nor I," answered John, who was blind to his own danger, as all intemperate men are.
"We have no need of any such beverage at all," continued Benjamin. "I discard it entirely now, as you know that I did when I lived here in Boston. Water is the best beverage for us both."
"You may be right, Ben; you are, generally. But are you not a little odd in discarding what nearly every one uses?" John was trying to find an excuse for himself.