selves of it: these were
the idle and unscrupulous, who, as they resembled himself, left nothing
unsaid or undone to maintain his good opinion, and they succeeded. His
business now declined so much, that he was obliged to dismiss some of
them, and, as if he had been fated to ruin, the honest and independent,
who scorned to flatter his weaknesses, were the very persons put out
of his employment, because their conduct was a silent censure upon his
habits, and the men he retained were those whom he himself had made
drunken and profligate by his example; so true is it that a drunkard is
his own enemy in a thousand ways.

Here, then, is our old friend Art falling fast away from the proverbial
integrity of his family--his circumstances are rapidly declining--his
business running to a point--his reputation sullied, and his
temper becoming sharp and vehement; these are strong indications of
mismanagement, neglect, and folly, or, in one word, of a propensity to
drink.

About a year and a half has now elapsed, and Art, in spite of several
most determined resolutions to reform, is getting still worse in every
respect. It is not to be supposed, however, that during this period he
has not had visitations of strong feeling--of repentance--remorse--or
that love of drink had so easy a victory over him as one would imagine.
No such thing. These internal struggles sometimes affected him even unto
agony, and he has frequently wept bitter tears on finding himself the
victim of this terrible habit. He had not, however, the courage to
look into his own condition with a firm eye, or to examine the state of
either his heart or his circumstances with the resolution of a man who
knows that he must suffer pain by the inspection. Art could not bear the
pain of such an examination, and, in order to avoid feeling it, he had
recourse to the oblivion of drink; not reflecting that the adoption of
every such remedy for care resembles the wisdom of the man, who, when
raging under the tortures of thirst, attempted to allay them by drinking
sea-water. Drink relieved him for a moment, but he soon found that in
his case the remedy was only another name for the disease.

It is not necessary to assure our readers that during Art's unhappy
progress hitherto, his admirable brother Frank felt wrung to the heart
by his conduct. All that good advice, urged with good feeling and good
sense, could do, was tried on him, but to no purpose; he ultimately lost
his tem