In the country,
surrounded by circles of persons as free from stimulants or the need of
them as is their snow from the smut of soft-coal, they swear eternal
"conversion" to the views of a man--usually a former victim of
intoxication,--often a subsequent wallower in his same old gutters.
Society sometimes looks upon this Peter the Hermit with little pleasure.
The excitements, the passions and the commotions which he sometimes
foments are pitiable from the very fact that
NO RUM CAN BE BLAMED
as having fired the unhappy brains that rush into the vortex of public
confusion, like ships into the whirlpool. All the practical laws would
be passed (and at a date earlier than that at which the public finally
accept them in reality) without the sacrifices of the man who proudly
calls himself a "horrible example" of the power of strong drink. How
does Society do it? I am sure I do not know. All I know is this:
ON THE REAL BATTLE-GROUND,
in the city, where stimulant is often needed--whisky, iron, quinine,
coffee, tobacco, opium, or tea--the men who waste the most nerve-tissue
are more rigidly required to abstain from the abuse of stimulants than
was the case fifteen years ago.
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