It ain't the love of the liquor, as teetotalers and those kind of goody people always are ramming down your throat--it's the love of nothing.

But it's the fear of their own thoughts--the dreadful misery--the anxiety about what's to come, that's always hanging like a black cloud over their heads.

That's what they can't stand; and liquor, for a bit, mind you--say a few hours or so--takes all that kind of feeling clean away.

Of course it returns, harder than before, but that says nothing.

It CAN be driven away.