of these little, gay palace-rooms, where the doors open in and not out, and the things which swim by seem curious to know what is inside. Some of these gay places hold struggling captives; others are full of the relics of the dead. Now, that is a little parable to you. Let the little green sacs stand for places where strong drink is sold. Those who enter such places form the drinking habit, and then they cannot get free from it. Persons, yet free, look into these dens for drinking. They see in them people all ragged, dirty, poor, unhappy, bloated, crazy, sick, wrecked and ruined victims of the habit. They see yet others who mourn that they are enslaved, who have a sense of shame and danger, and struggle to get rid of the appetite that makes prisoners of them, and will destroy them. In this little plant, when the little animals get into the sacs, the plant melts up their bodies and seems to suck up their juice and feed on it until nothing is left but the fine bony parts. So the unhappy person who goes into a grog shop finds that the dealer feeds on him until his health and happiness, and money and respectability are all gone, and perhaps nothing is left of him but the poor body that is ready for the Potter's field. Is it not strange that when we see how many persons are utterly ruined by drink, any will venture into places where drink is sold, and will even begin to taste the fatal liquor? Whenever you see a place for selling whiskey, I want you to think of the little water-bears and other water creatures which enter the snares of the bladder-plant."—Selected.
