st seed. So
should every man who desires to reap a harvest of happiness. He should
look well to the seed, and sow only that which will eventually produce
the best results. Again, you say that liquor when used in moderation, is
a means of producing human happiness, and therefore should be used. I
beg to differ with you; happiness arises not from the animal impulses of
human nature stimulated by intoxicating liquor. Use it moderately you
say. Alas, how many millions have been ruined forever by the taking of
only one single glass at first, _only one glass_! Think of it! It is the
magnet that attracts material akin to itself; alas, what a world of
wretchedness and crime is reflected from that nucleus of Intemperance."

"Hold on, hold on, Fred," ejaculated Jenkins, "that'll do for the
present."

"Go on, Fred, your illustrations are beautiful and impressive," cried
Stevens, "go on, you are hitting the target at every shot."

"For goodness sake, Fred, do stop; or you will convert us all into a
company of 'cold water-boys,'" cried Jenkins.

"Come! come, my lads," exclaimed Haveril, "we'll wind up for the present
with a bumper of 'hot Scotch' and I'll pay for the drinks."

"Hot Scotch! hot Scotch!" shouted a half dozen of voices--and having
partaken of a rousing bumper they called upon Fred to favor them with a
song, to which he responded in the following Temperance Song, entitled
"One Glass More."

Behold yon wretch at the tavern-bar:
His matted hair hangs over his brow;
The manly form and the noble soul
Are wrecked and lost in the drunkard now.
He shivering stands in his dirty rags,
With bloated face and his blood-shot eyes;
With quivering lips and a fever'd breath
For one glass more how he pleading cries.

_Chorus._--O give me, sir, but a single glass;
O pity me now when my cash is done;
The night is cold and my blood runs chill,
And all I ask is a single one.

Away from here, you miserable wretch;
I want no more of your blubbering gas,
Be off at once! or I'll kick you out;
You'll get none here--not a single glass,
What brought you here in your filthy rags,
To disgrace my house in this drunken way.
At once, begone! for you'll get no drink,
No, not a glass, when you've nothing to pay.

_Chorus._--O give me, sir, &c.

O, wherefore, sir, would you kick me out!
Why so