THROUGH A GLASS LIGHTLY
take it cool and refreshing from the chilly shade, or hot and life-giving with the warmth of sun and heaven thick upon it? And yet—one single glass of claret, some half-dozen strawberries, and this monster will work his vengeance on us by making our blood tingle as though it had been sluiced with curry and ginger powder, and our bodies itch—strong evils claim a sturdy nomenclature—as though they had become the temporary camping-ground of the pestilence that walketh in darkness. The fiend is inexorable. Drink toast and water and he will leave us in peace, eat no fruit and taste no sugar, eschew butter and things which make for slipperiness, and he will go into temporary hiding; but he is there, for he has come, and he has come to
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