_Beyond_ this point, as sanctioned and approved by nature, the use of wine is only degradation.

Well did the sacred writer call wine, when thus taken in excess, "a mocker." It makes all men equal, because it makes them all idiotic.

It allures them into a vicious indulgence, and then mocks their folly, by depriving them of any sense they may ever have possessed.
It has, I fear, been injurious to the cause of temperance, that emotions of true friendship, and the outpouring of human affections, should so frequently be connected with the obligation that the parties should _get drunk together_.

Drunkenness is thus made to hold too close an association in men's minds with some of the best and finest feelings of their nature.
"Friend of my soul, this goblet sip," is the constant acknowledged strain of poetical friendship: our own Robert Burns calls upon the dear companion of his early happy days, with whom he had "paidl't i' the burn, frae mornin' sun till dine," and between whom "braid seas had roar'd sin auld lang syne," to commemorate their union of heart and spirit, and to welcome their meeting after years of separation, by each one joining his pint-stoup, and by each taking a mutual "richt guid willie-waught," in honour of the innocent and happy times of "auld lang syne." David marks his recognition of friendship by tokens of a different character--"We took sweet counsel together, and walked _in the house of God_ as friends."-- Ps.

lv.