Lagrange, was retained in the employ of the store. Ralph Orton was
his name. He having been for a long time in the store, and during
that time having had free access to the wines, had formed an
appetite for them, in consequence of which he was often intoxicated.

His inebriation was periodical, and not of that kind whose subjects
are held in continual thraldom; yet, to use his own words, "when he
was drunk, he was drunk, and no mistake." He obeyed the old
injunction of "what is worth doing is worth doing well," and as long
as he got drunk he got well drunk.

He had ofttimes been reasoned with in his days of soberness, and had
often promised to reform; but so many around him drank that he could
not resist the temptation to drink also, and therefore broke his
promise. This habit had so fastened itself upon him, that, like one
in the coil of the serpent, the more he strove to escape the closer
it held him.

If there is any one habit to which if a man becomes attached he will
find more difficulty to escape from than another, it is that of
intemperance; yet all habits are so one with our nature that the
care taken to guard against the adoption of evil ones cannot be too
great.

Behold that man! He was tempted,--he yielded. He has surrendered a
noble estate, and squandered a large fortune. Once he had riches and
friends; his eye sparkled with the fire of ambition; hope and joy
beamed in each feature of his manly countenance, and all bespoke for
him a long life and happy death. Look at him now! without a penny in
his pocket, a wretched outcast, almost dead with starvation. Habit