'_In vino veritas_' expresses, even, indeed, to physiological accuracy, the true condition.

The reason, the emotions, the instincts, are all in a state of carnival, and in chaotic feebleness.
"Finally, the action of the alcohol still extending, the superior brain centres are overpowered; the senses are beclouded, the voluntary muscular prostration is perfected, sensibility is lost, and the body lies a mere log, dead by all but one-fourth, on which alone its life hangs.

The heart still remains true to its duty, and while it just lives it feeds the breathing power.

And so the circulation and the respiration, in the otherwise inert mass, keeps the mass within the bare domain of life until the poison begins to pass away and the nervous centres to revive again.

It is happy for the inebriate that, as a rule, the brain fails so long before the heart that he has neither the power nor the sense to continue his process of destruction up to the act of death of his circulation.