never moody nor perverse in his tempers. Of the change that was in
progress, the change from prosperity to adversity, he did not seem
to be _painfully_ conscious.

Yes, there was something wrong about the affairs of old Mr. Bacon. A
habit indulged through many years, had acquired a dangerous
influence over him, and was gradually destroying his rational
ability to act well in the ordinary concerns of life. As a young
man, Mr. Bacon drank "temperately," and he drank "temperately" in
the prime of life; and now, at sixty, he continued to drink
"temperately," that is, in his own estimation. There were many,
however, who had reason to think differently. But Mr. Bacon was no
bar-room lounger; in fact, he rarely, if ever, went to a public
house; it was in his own home and among his household treasures,
that he placed to his lips the cup of confusion.

The various temperance reforms had all found warm advocates among
his friends and neighbours; but Mr. Bacon stood aloof. He would have
nothing to do in these matters.

"Let them join temperance societies who feel themselves in danger,"
was his good natured answer to all argument or persuasion addressed
to him on the subject.

He did not oppose nor ridicule the movement. He thought it a good
thing; only, he had in it no personal interest.

And so Mr. Bacon went on drinking "temperately" until habit, from
claiming a moderate indulgence, began to make, so it seemed to his
friends, rather unreasonable demands. Besides this habit of