“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 73/4 Hats and read Norwegian Novels that no one else ever heard anything about.

On the Evening already mentioned she had a Cluster of Geniuses on hand.  They were expected to Talk for a couple of Hours, so as to work up an Appetite for Neapolitan Ice-Cream and Lady-Fingers.  In the course of time they got around to the Topic of Modern Music.  All agreed that the Music which seemed to catch on with the low-browed Public was exceedingly punk.  They rather fancied “Parsifal” and were willing to concede that Vogner made good in Spots, but Mascagni they branded as a Crab.  As for Victor Herbert and J.P.  Sousa—­back to the Water-Tanks!