of intoxicants to specified licensed places and the sale of them to
unmistakable adults, and they will make the temptation of the young
a grave offence. In so migratory a population as the Modern Utopian,
the licensing of inns and bars would be under the same control as
the railways and high roads. Inns exist for the stranger and not for
the locality, and we shall meet with nothing there to correspond
with our terrestrial absurdity of Local Option.

The Utopians will certainly control this trade, and as certainly
punish personal excesses. Public drunkenness (as distinguished from
the mere elation that follows a generous but controlled use of wine)
will be an offence against public decency, and will be dealt with in
some very drastic manner. It will, of course, be an aggravation of,
and not an excuse for, crime.

But I doubt whether the State will go beyond that. Whether an adult
shall use wine or beer or spirits, or not, seems to me entirely a
matter for his doctor and his own private conscience. I doubt if we
explorers shall meet any drunken men, and I doubt not we shall meet
many who have never availed themselves of their adult freedom in
this respect. The conditions of physical happiness will be better
understood in Utopia, it will be worth while to be well there, and
the intelligent citizen will watch himself closely. Half and more of
the drunkenness of earth is an attempt to lighten dull days and
hopelessly sordid and disagreeable lives, and in Utopia they do not
suffer these things. Assuredly Utopia will be temperate, not only
drinking, but eating with the soundest discretion. Yet I do not
think wine and good ale will be altogether wanting there, nor good,
mellow whisky, nor, upon occasion, the engaging various liqueur.
I do not think so. My botanist, who abstains altogether, is of