ounty. An aged brother, in a tone by no means exultant, assured me
that such was the fact. I then observed that I was not a hard
drinker, but being a total stranger and liable to sudden sickness,
I asked what I would do under such circumstances.

An equally venerable brother, who bore the unique title of "Colonel,"
slowly responded, "Have to do without, sir, _have to do without;_ not
a drop to be had in the county, absolutely not a drop, sir."

The brief silence which followed this announcement was broken by
the corroborative testimony of a more youthful associate of similar
official distinction, and a genial and hospitable expression of
countenance, somehow suggesting memories of old cognac.

"Yes, sir, the use of spirituous liquors is now only a tradition
with us; but I have heard my father say, that before the war,
the indulgence in such hospitality was not uncommon among
gentlemen."

At the conclusion of still further cumulative testimony of the same
tenor, I remarked that something about the general situation reminded
me of an incident that occurred in a State far to the north while the
"Maine Law" was in operation.

A dilapidated-looking pedestrian, with a pack on his back, early
one afternoon of a hot July day pulled up in front of the post-office
in a small village in the interior of Maine. Humbly addressing
a citizen who was just coming out with his copy of the _Weekly
Tribune_ in hand, he inquired,

"Where can I get a drink?"

"The Maine Law is in force," was the reply, "and it is impossible for
you to get a drink in the State."

The heart of the wayfarer sank within him.

"Would you let a man die right here on your streets, for lack of
a drink?"

The "better angel" of the citizen being touched thereat, he replied,

"My friend, I am very sorry for you, but no liquor is ever sold
here, except by the apothecary, and then only as a medicine."

Upon further inquiry, the important fact was disclosed that the
shop of the apothecary was three-quarters of a mile away, on the
left-hand side of the road. With an alacrity indicating something
of hope, the pedestrian immediately gathered up his pack, and
through the dust and heat at length reached the designated place.
Sinking apparently exhausted upon the door-step, he feebly requested
the man behind the counter to let him have something to drink. The
immediate reply of the apothecary was that the Maine Law was in
force, and no spirituous liquors cou