very persons are generally more intolerant than those who really make a sacrifice by abstaining from what they relish. But so it is.

Leaving, however, these matters to be debated by others, let us, ladies, take a quiet, reasonable, worldly, common-sense view of the question. We will all, I dare say, agree that there is not under the sun a more degraded creature than a drunkard—a sot -a sponge that absorbs indiscriminately all quantities and qualities of liquors that come in his way; a fellow like a desert sand, "that drinks, and drinks, and still is dry"-a bond-slave to a pot and glass. Neither will we disagree in our estimation of another very common and unamiable species of animal, to wit—the noisy, coarse young man who is continually hanging about taverns drinking juleps, smoking cigars, canvassing the merits of plays and players, or wrangling and disputing about southern nullification—a mixture of ruffianism and puppyism; the sort of person who is continually enjoying himself by getting into what he calls "famous sprees" or "duced good larks," which means committing gratuitous impertinences and getting well kicked, beaten, and put into the watchhouse therefor; liquor only calls forth and fully developes the natural rankness of the thoughts and feelings of such a creature; and the sooner it kills him the

pleasanter for society. But there is another class more worthy of your attention, who have not altogether foresworn the use of stimulants. Men who from keeping generally sober, are the more keenly alive to a little pleasurable elevation on particular occasions, their faculties and capacities for enjoyment being fresh and unworn--neither starved by total abstinence nor blunted and cloyed by habitual indulgence. In this class are to be found some of the choicest specimens of humanity; the wit, the poet, and the philosopher, the unobtrusive student and the gay lively man of the world. Such persons seldom or never become drunkards-they have too much good taste; and is it not uncharitable in you, or any one else, to attempt to affix a stigma on them because they sometimes, on festive occasions, seek relief from the wearisome monotony of the world in a bumper? I take it for granted that nearly all men like excitement, and women too. True there are some schemes of quiet and rational happiness which omit this article entirely ; but then they are generally so very quiet and rational, that people are apt to fall asleep in the enjoyment of them. Your sensibilities, ladies, are quicker and finer than ours, and the desired sensation is more easily obtained; for instance, company, a cup of delicate green tea, and a modicum of harmless

scandal, cause your eyes to sparkle, adorn your cheeks with smiles and dimples, set your tongues a-going, and induce precisely that state of body and mind which gentlemen experience after a glass or so. Suppose, in the midst of your sipping and chatting, the warm, comfortable tea-urn was to be removed, and a pitcher of cold water substituted in its place! "Will you take another cup?" Ah! how your teeth chatter at the mere thoughts of such a thing, and what a piece of wanton barbarity you consider the exchange. Well, ladies, suppose a few decent, inoffensive gentlemen seated round a table, each with a glass of sparkling wine, or, why mince the matter, whiskey-punch before him. The good liquor begins to do its office; the "flow of reason and the feast of soul" commence; the jest, the song, the anecdote go round-the petty carking cares of business are forgotten, and the tangible evils of life gradually fade away into thin, unsubstantial vapors. Their glasses are out--fill them again. Suppose at this stage of the business some spare, dissatisfied man conveyed away unobserved the pleasing liquids which they had been drinking, replenishing at the same time every glass with the choicest spring water. "Gentlemen," says he, "I will give you a toast-Temperance Societies, and success to their endeavors." What is the result?

Why several worthy gentlemen that were about to be very happy, become suddenly uncomfortable, go home in a bad humor, and quarrel with their wives about small domestic grievances. How much is virtue into pocket by this?

At public dinners (such an one as was given some time since to our gifted townsman, Washington Irving,) would you excommunicate wine and spirits? Would you have all generous toasts and sentiments washed down with cold water? What an agree able fervor would pervade the company! At patriotic celebrations, too, think, oh think, of the "immortal memory of George Washington" in pure spring, or the "American fair," in a bumper of the best rock, Manhattan, or other waters of local notoriety! Is such a scheme feasible; and, if it were, is it desirable? Have the lords of the creation to follow the example of the cattle of the fields and other inferior animals? Then why was a discriminating palate given to man? Water is highly commendable and agreeable in many respects. It is useful in poetry, and poetical in reality. In a landscape, for instance, what life and animation does it impart to the prospect; how sweetly it gurgles and tinkles in a rivulet; and into what a resplendent blaze of beauty it heightens a fine sunset! But when presented to the eye on a small

scale, that is, in a tumbler-it becomes insignificant and contemptible, and altogether unworthy the notice of any person pretending to rationality. Oh ladies, ladies, rescind your resolutions; but at the same time beware-beware of men that drink alone, and of those who drink standing at the bars of taverns; such persons drink for the gross love of liquor; beware of gluttons, sots and habitual tipplers; but also beware of unadulterated waterdrinkers.