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“Never a man died of brandy!” said Mr. Pump, with much emphasis. “Brandy’s the word!” and, without saying more, he produced a cork-screw, and with it opened a bottle.

A couple of glasses soon made their appearance. “Now, you will take a glass with me,” said Dago; “it is the pure Cogniac, quality one, letter A.”

“Drink, now,” said he, pushing a glass towards him. “Wine is used by the temperance society. They’ll use brandy soon. Ah, they can’t do without their wine, and we can’t do without our brandy! They want to bind us in a free country, what my father bled and almost died for,– bind us to drink cold water!” said Mr. Pump, sneeringly. “Let ’em try it! I go for freedom of the press,–universal, everlasting, unbounded freedom!”

When this patriotic bubble had exploded and the mist cleared away, he sang a bacchanalian song, which he wished every free man in the world would commit to memory. “What is the difference,” said he, “between this and wine? Neither will hurt a man; it is your rum-drinking, gin-guzzling topers that are harmed;–anything will harm them. Who ever heard of a genteel wine or brandy drinker becoming a pest to society? Who ever heard of such an one rolling in the mire? No; such men are able to take care of themselves. Away with the pledge!”

“Perhaps you are right,” replied Edward; “yet we should be careful. Although all around me drink, I have until this moment abstained from the use of brandy; but now, at your request, I partake of it. Remember, if I, by this act, am led into habits of intemperance, if I meet a drunkard’s grave, the blame will rest upon you.”

“Ha, ha, ha! Well done! So be it! I’ll shoulder the blame, if a respectable man like you falls by brandy.”

Edward drank the contents of a glass, and, placing it upon the table, said “We must be careful!”

“True!” said Mr. Pump, as he again filled the glass; “we cannot be too much so. We must avoid rum and gin as we would a viper! How I abhor the very name of rum! O, Mr. Dayton, think of the misery it has brought upon man! I had a sister once, a beautiful, kind-hearted creature. She was married to an industrious man; all was fair, prospects bright. By degrees he got into bad company; he forgot his home, loved rum more than that, became dissipated, died, and filled a drunkard’s grave! She, poor creature, went into a fever, became delirious, raved day after day, and, heaping curses upon him who sold her husband rum, died. Since then, I have looked upon rum as a curse; but brandy,–it is a gentle stimulant, a healthy beverage, a fine drink, and it can do no harm.”

Onendago swallowed the contents of his glass, and Edward, who, having taken the first, found it very easy to take the second, did the same. Yet his conscience smote him; he felt that he was doing wrong.

Like the innocent, unthinking bird, who, charmed by the serpent’s glistening eyes, falls an easy prey to its crushing embrace, was he at that moment. He the bird, unconscious of the danger behind the charm.

This is no fictitious tale. Would to Heaven it contained less of truth! The world has seen many men like “Mr. Pump,” and many have through their instrumentality fallen; many not to rise till ages shall have obliterated all memory of the past, with all its unnatural loves! Whilst others, having struggled on for years, have at length seen a feeble ray of light penetrating the dark clouds that overshadowed their path, which light continued to increase, till, in all its beauty, the star of temperance shone forth, by which they strove ever after to be guided.

It was near midnight when Mr. Pump left. The two had become quite sociable, and Mr. Pump saw the effect of his brandy in the unusual gayety of Edward.