Page:California Inter Pocula.djvu/695

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of untried virtue, scoff at the fallen of any quality, one hardly knows which to pity most, the vanquished fighter of life's battle, or the pharisee, proud in ill being so unlike these publicans.

How the big, blustering coward is sometimes deceived by the slender form, and modest demeanor, and thin, pale face which often cover firmness and true courage! Yet the closer observer sees in the eye, and mouth,* and features, lineaments as plainly indicative of character as lines chiseled by the sculpter's graver.

Once there was a half-drunken Irishman at Foster's bar who attempted to force a small, sickl}?" -looking youth to drink. Seizing the boy by the arm, he dragged him to the counter where a glass stood ready.

"Drink that or I'll murder you," said the Irishman.

"I will not," calmly replied the boy, not a trace of color appearing in his face.

"Then, damn you, you shall clear out!" exclaimed the infuriated Irishman, and taking the boy by the collar of his shirt he kicked him into the street. The youth caught the awning-post with his left arm and continued to swing round it, boy-like. His right hand he put behind him.

"You dare not follow me out," said he, in the same low, passionless voice which had characterized his whole conversation. Instantly the Irishman made a spring at him. The boy swung himself once or twice round the post to gather force; then as he came round he sprang upon his burly foe and drove a long, sharp, double-edged knife into his breast killing him instantly. The boy was tried and acquitted.

Rum has ruined its thousands, is still ruining them. War with all its horrors, pestilence, and famine are harmless as compared with the deadly work of the demon drink. A five years' war four times every century, each as disastrous to life as was that for the Union, would not kill as many men as excessive drinking now is killing every day. Dead they are, thougfh