it.

[Illustration: _Never Again!_]

As he walked homeward in the Dusk he passed the Clubs and Cafes where
those who Drank were rounding up and he felt sorry for them.

"Why can't they pass it up, the same as I do?" he asked himself. "Ah,
if only they knew how much more Fun it is to be Respectable."

It was an actual Mystery to him that any one could dally with a Dry
Martini while there was a Hydrant on every Corner.

On the third Day he was cracking his Whip and begging People to get
up on the Wagon with him. And he said it was a Queer Thing, but he
couldn't bear the Sight of it.

While on the fourth Evening he confessed to some nice People he met at
a Church Social that at one time he had allowed himself to be coaxed
into taking an occasional Nip but he reasoned it all out and decided
it was a Bad Thing and simply Chopped it right off. They told him it
was wonderful how much Will Power he had and asked him if he ever
felt the Old Craving coming back on him, and he said he could see it
splashing all around him and not have the faintest Desire to dip in.

He was so stuck on himself that he went around to call on all his
Friends who kept it on the Table so that he could wave it to one side
and tell how he despised it. He sat there and pitied those who were
inhaling it. Every Morning when he arose he would throw kisses to
himself in the Glass and exclaim: "Aha! The Head as clear as a Bell
this A.M. I'll bet I'm the cleanest and nicest Young Fellow in this
Town. Any Girl that picks out a Sober and Steady Man such as I am will
certainly be showing good Judgment."

As Narrated at the Beginning, for three weeks he worked hard at the
Job of being an Abstainer. And at last he accumulated a Sense of
Virtue that weighed over 200 Pounds. He knew that he was entitled to
a Reward, so he decided to buy himself a little Present. Just a wee
Reminder of by-gone Days and then back to Sarsaparilla. But he fell
into a Crowd. There was another State Convention. It had been arranged
for him so that he could get a Fresh Start.

* * * * *

MORAL: Life is a Series of Relapses and Recoveries.

* * * * *

_THE KIND OF MUSIC THAT IS TOO GOOD FOR HOUSEHOLD USE_

One Evening a little Flock of Our Best People got together at the Home
of a Lady who invariably was first over the Fence in the Mad Pursuit
of Culture. She loved to fill her Front Rooms with Folks who wore