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I hope the day is not far distant, when drunkenness
will be unknown in our highly favored country. The
moral world is rising in its strength against the all-destroying
vice, and though the monster still struggles,
and stings, and poisons, with deadly effect, in many parts
of our wide spread territory, it is perceptibly wounded
and weakened; and I flatter myself, if I should live to
number ten years more, I shall see it driven entirely,
from the higher walks of life at least, if not from all
grades of society. For the honor of my contemporaries,
I would register none of its crimes or its follies;
but, in noticing the peculiarities of the age in which I
live, candor constrains me to give this vice a passing
notice. The interview which I am about to present to my
readers, exhibits it in its mildest and most harmless forms.

In the county of —, and about five miles
apart, lived old Hardy Slow and old Tobias Swift—
They were both industrious, honest, sensible farmers,
when sober; but they never visited their county-town,
without getting drunk; and then they were—precisely
what the following narrative makes them.

They both happened at the Court House on the same
day, when I last saw them together; the former accompanied
by his wife, and the latter by his youngest son, a
lad about thirteen. Tobias was just clearly on the
wrong side of the line, which divides drunk from sober;
but Hardy was “royally corned” (but not falling) when
they met, about an hour by sun in the afternoon, near
the rack at which both their horses were hitched.

They stopped about four feet apart, and looked each
other full in the face for about half a minute; during all
which time, Toby sucked his teeth, winked, and made
signs with his shoulders and elbows to the by-standers

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that he knew Hardy was drunk, and was going to quiz
him for their amusement. In the meantime, Hardy
looked at Tobias, like a polite man dropping to sleep in
spite of himself, under a long dull story.

At length Toby broke silence:

“How goes it, uncle Hardy?” (winking to the company
and shrugging his shoulders.)

“Why, Toby!—is that you? Well—upon my—why,
Toby!—Lord—help—my—soul and—Why, Toby!
what, in, the, worl', set, you, to, gitt'n, drunk—this,
time o' day? Swear, poin' blank, you're drunk! Why—
you—must be, an old, fool—to, get, drunk, right, before,
all these, gentlemen—a'ready, Toby.”

“Well, but, now you see, (winking) uncle Hardy, a
gill-cup an't a quart-pot, nor a quart-pot an't a two
gallon jug; and therefore, (winking and chuckling)
uncle Hardy, a thing is a thing, turn it which way you
will, it just sticks at what it was before you give it first
ex—ex—ploit.”

“Well, the, Lord, help, my—Why, Toby! what,
is the reas'n, you, never, will, answer, me this, one—
circumstance—and, that, is—I, always, find, you,
drunk, when, I come, here.”

“Well, now, but uncle Hardy, you always know
circumstances alters cases, as the fellow said; and therefore,
if one circumstance alters another circumstance—
how's your wife and children?”

“I, swear, poin' blank, I shan't tell you—because, you
r'ally, is, too drunk, to know, my wife, when, you, meet,
her, in the street, all, day, long, and, she'll, tell, you, the,
very, same, thing, as, all, these, gentlemen, can—testimony.”

“Well, but now you see, uncle Hardy, thinking's one
thing and knowing's another, as the fellow said; and the
proof o' the pudding's chawin' the bag, as the fellow

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said; and you see—toll-doll-diddle-de-doll-doll-day,
(singing and capering) you think I can't dance? Come,
uncle Hardy, let's dance.”

“Why, Toby!—you—come—to this? I did'nt make,
you, drunk, did I? You, an't, took, a drink, with, me,
this, live, long, day—is you? I, say, is you, Toby?”

“No, uncle Har—”

“Well, then, let's go, take a drink.”

“Well, but you see, uncle Hardy, drinkin's drinkin';
but that's neither here nor there, as the fellow said.

“Why, Toby! ha—ha—ha—Well, I r'ally, did, think,
you, was, drunk, but, now I believe—blast the flies!
I b'lieve, they, jest, as li'f, walk, in my, mouth, as, in,
my nose.” (Then looking with eyes half closed at Toby
for several minutes,) “Why, Toby, you, spit 'bacoo
spit, all over, your jacket—and, that's jist, the very,
way, you, got, in your—fix.”

At this moment, Mrs. Slow came up, and immediately
after, Swift's son, William.

“Come,” said the good lady, “old man, let's go
home; it's getting late, and there's a cloud rising; we'll
get wet.”

“Why, Nancy! what in the worl' has got into you!
Is you drunk too? Well, 'pon, my word, and honor, I,
b'lieve, every body, in this town, is, got drunk to-day.
Why, Nancy! I never, did, see, you, in, that fix, before,
in, all, my, live, long, born, days.”

“Well, never mind,” said she, “come, let's go home.
Don't you see the rain coming up?”

“Well, will, it rain, upon, my, corn-field, or my cotton-patch?
Say, Nancy! which one, will it, rain on?
But, Lord, help, my, soul, you are, too drunk, to tell me,

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any, thing, about it. Don't my corn want rain, Nancy?
Now, jist, tell me, that?”

“Yes; but let's go home.”

“Then, why, upon, the face, of the earth, won't you,
let it, rain, then? I, rather, it, should rain, than not.”

“Come, old man,” said several by-standers, touched
with sympathy for the good lady, “come get on your
horse and go home, and we will help you.”

“Oh yes, uncle Hardy,” said Tobias, affecting to
throw all humor aside, and to become very sober all at
once, “go home with the old woman—Come, gentlemen
let's help 'em on their horses—they're groggy—mighty'
groggy. Come, old man, I'll help you.” (staggering
to Hardy.)

“Jist look at daddy now!” said Billy; “he's going
to help Mr. Swift, and he's drunk as Mr. Swift is. Oh,
daddy, come, let's go home, or we'll get mazin' wet.”

Toby stooped down to help Hardy on his horse, (before
the horse was taken from the rack,) and throwing
his arm round Hardy's legs, he fell backwards, and so
did Hardy.

“Why—Lord, bless, my, soul,” said Hardy, “I
b'lieve I'm drunk too. What, upon the, face, of the
earth, has got, into, all, of us, this day!”

“Why, uncle Hardy,” said Toby, “you pull us both
down together.” “The old man's mighty groggy,” said
Toby to me, in a half whisper, and with an arch wink
and smile, as he rose up, (I happening to be next to him
at the moment,) “S'pose we help him up and get him off.
The old woman's in for it too,” continued he; winking,
nodding, and shrugging up his shoulders very significantly.

“Oh no,” said I, “the old woman is perfectly sober,
and I never heard of her tasting a drop in all my
life.”

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“Oh,” said Toby, assuming the gravity of a parson,
“loves it mightily, mightily!—Monstrous woman for
drinking!—at least that's my opinion. Monstrous fine
woman though! monstrous fine!”

“Oh, daddy, for the Lord's sake let's go home; only
see what a rain is coming!” said Billy.

“Daddy 'll go presently my son.”

“Well here's your horse, git up and let's go. Mammy
'll be sure to be sendin' for us.”

“Don't mind him,” said Toby, winking to me; “he's
nothing but a boy; I would'nt take no notice of what he
said. He want's me (winking and smiling) to go home
with him; now you listen.”

“Well, come,” said I to uncle Toby, “get on your
horse, and go home, a very heavy rain is coming up.”

“I'll go presently, but you just listen to Bill,” said
he to me, winking and smiling.

“Oh, daddy, for the Lord's sake let's go home.”

Toby smiled archly at me, and winked.

“Daddy, are you going home or not? Jist look at
the rain comin'.”

Toby smiled and winked.

“Well, I do think a drunken man is the biggest fool
in the county,” said Bill, “I don't care who he is.”

“Bill!” said the old man, very sternly, “`honor thy
father and mother,' that—that the woman's seed may
bruise the serpent's head.”

“Well, daddy, tell me if you won't go home! You
see it's going to rain powerful. If you won't go, may
I go?”

“Bill! `Leave not thy father who begat thee; for
thou art my beloved son Esau, in whom I am well
pleased.”'

“Why, daddy, it's dropping rain now.”—Here Bill
was relieved from his anxiety by the appearance of

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Aaron, a trusty servant, whom Mrs. Slow had despatched
for his master, to whose care Bill committed him,
and was soon out of sight.

Aaron's custom had long been to pick up his master
without ceremony, put him on his horse, and bear him
away. So used to this dealing had Toby been, that
when he saw Aaron, he surrendered at discretion, and
was soon on the road. But as the rain descended in
torrents, before even Bill could have proceeded half a
mile, the whole of them must have been drenched to
the skin.

As to Hardy, whom in the proper order we ought to
have disposed of first, he was put on his horse by main
force; and was led off by his wife, to whom he was
muttering as far as I could hear him—“Why, Nancy!
How, did, you, get, in, such a fix? Youl'll, fall, off, your,
horse, sure, as you're borne, and I'll have to put you up
again.” As they were constrained to go in a walk,
they too must have got wringing wet, though they had a
quarter of an hour the start of Toby.

HALL.