perance,"
replied the other, "that is very remarkable. It is the only one from
which society does not protect itself by quarantine and sanitary
restrictions. In cholera, yellow fever and small-pox every effort is
made to guard healthy districts from their invasion, and the man who
for gain or any other consideration should be detected in the work of
introducing infecting agents would be execrated and punished. But
society has another way of dealing with the men who are engaged in
spreading the disease of intemperance among the people. It enacts laws
for their protection, and gives them the largest liberty to get gain in
their work of disseminating disease and death, and, what is still more
remarkable, actually sells for money the right to do this."

"You put the case sharply."

"Too sharply?"

"Perhaps not. No good ever comes of calling evil things by dainty names
or veiling hard truth under mild and conservative phrases. In granting
men a license to dispense alcohol in every variety of enticing forms
and in a community where a large percentage of the people have a
predisposition to intemperance, consequent as well on hereditary taint
as unhealthy social conditions, society commits itself to a disastrous
error the fruit of which is bitterer to the taste than the ashen core
of Dead Sea apples."

"What about Dead Sea apples?" asked Mr. Elliott, who came up at the
moment and heard the last remark. The two gentlemen were pew-holders in
his church. Mr. Elliott's countenance was radiant. All his fine social
feelings were active, and he was enjoying a "flow of soul," if not "a
feast of reason." Wine was making glad his heart--not excess of wine,
in the ordinary sense, for Mr. Elliott had no morbid desire for
stimulants. He was of the number who could take a social glass and not
feel a craving for more. He believed in wine as a good thing, only
condemning its abuse.

"What were you saying about Dead Sea apples?" Mr. Elliott repeated his
question.

"We were speaking of intemperance," replied one of the gentlemen.

"O--h!" in a prolonged and slightly indifferent tone. Mr. Elliott's
countenance lost some of its radiance. "And what were you saying about
it?"

Common politeness required as much as this, even though the subject was
felt to be out of place.

"We were talking with Dr. Angier just now about hereditary drunkenness,
or rather the inherited predisposition to that vice--disease, as the
doctor calls it. This pre