cessary to use intoxicating
drinks. The evils of intemperance were not viewed with so much
abhorrence as they are now, and the project of removing them from
society was not entertained for a moment. Reformatory movements, in
this respect, did not commence until nearly one hundred years after
the time referred to. Yet Benjamin was fully persuaded in his youth
that he ought to be temperate in all things. Probably there was not
one of his associates who believed as he did on the subject. But he
began early to think for himself, and this, with the excellent
discipline of his wise and sagacious father, caused him to live in
advance of those around him. It is not probable that he adopted the
principle of total abstinence, and abstained entirely from the use of
intoxicating drinks; but he was not in the habit of using it as a
daily, indispensable beverage.

That the practice of Benjamin's father, to allow no finding fault with
the food at the table, and to lead the way in profitable conversation,
was a good one, we think no one can deny. It was very different,
however, from much of the table-talk that is heard in families.
Conversation is frequently brisk and lively, but it often runs in this
way:--

"I don't want any of that, I don't like it," exclaimed Henry. "I
should think you might have a better dinner than this."

"What would you have if you could get it,--roast chicken and plum
pudding?" inquires his mother, laughing, instead of reproving him for
his error.

"I would have something I can eat. You know I don't like that, and
never did."

"Well, it does boys good, sometimes, to eat what they don't like,
especially such particular ones as you are," says his father.

"I shan't eat what I don't like, at any rate," continues Henry, "I
shall go hungry first."

"There, now," added his father, "let me hear no more complaint about
your food. You are scarcely ever suited with your victuals."

"May I have some ----?" calling for some article not on the table.

"If you will hold your tongue, and get it yourself, you can have it."

"And let me have some, too!" shouts James, a younger brother; "I don't
like this, neither. May I have some, father?"

"And I too," said Jane, setting up her plea. "I must have some if they
do."

In this way the table-talk proceeds, until fretting, scolding, crying,
make up the sum total of the conversation, and family joys are
embittered for the remainder of the day. Finding fault with food