security. No man who drinks, however sparingly, has assurance of
a sober life. He needlessly, and foolishly, places himself in
danger--turns his footsteps into the only path that can possibly
lead to the drunkard's ruin and the drunkard's grave!

Drink the _first drop_ that can intoxicate, and your feet stand at
the very brink of the ocean of intemperance. Its briny waters are
composed of human tears. Its winds, the sighs of those made poor and
wretched by the inebriation of husbands, fathers, sons. Its billows,
ever tossing, are overhung with black and lowering clouds, and
illuminated only by the lightning's vivid flash, while hoarse
thunders reverberate over the wide and desolate waste. Engulphed in
this dreary ocean, the wretched drunkard is buffeted hither and
thither, at the mercy of its angry waves--now dashed on jagged
rocks, bruised and bleeding--then engulphed in raging whirlpools to
suffocating depths--anon, like a worthless weed, cast high into the
darkened heavens by the wild water-spout, only to fall again into
the surging deep, to be tossed to and fro on waters which cannot
rest! Rash youth! Would you launch away on this sea of death? Quaff
of the intoxicating bowl, and soon its hungry waves will be around
you. Would you avoid a fate so direful? Seal your lips to the _first
drop_, and the drear prospect will sink forever from your vision!

Young men who would guard themselves against the baleful habit of
intemperance, should shun all resorts where intoxicating drinks are
vended. They should avoid throwing themselves in the way of
temptation. "Lead us not into temptation," should be the constant
prayer of the young. When by any combination of circumstances, they
find themselves in the company of those who quaff of the poisoned
bowl, whether in public or private, they should exercise a manly