The Bane and Antidute.

MRS. BROWN.

HOPE we shall all benefit by your judicious hints in reference to the length of our

observations. I, for one, shall gladly avail myself of your suggestion. It is only an imperative sense of duty that prompts me to to say a single word on the occasion. In discussing this mighty question of absenteeism, it strikes me that, while it is our duty to render home in every way pleasing and comfortable to our husbands, we ought not to lose sight of the immense attractions that are out of doors. I do not speak of the theatres, the assembly-rooms, and other places of public amusement, but only of the inns and public-houses. As they are places which women of respectability never think of entering, there is some difficulty in our finding out the peculiar charms which draw men away so much and so frequently from their families. But in ascertaining the causes I have spared no pains, so far as I could do so without becoming myself a visitor to those establishments of the wicked one. I have

inquired from others, I have read out of books, and, on one or two accidental occasions when my husband and I were travelling, have had opportunity of inspecting personally some of these wonderful places that produce such magic influence over the poor fellows who make a habit of frequenting them. I had suffered very much from these pernicious houses-quite enough to justify those prying propensities of mine which I am confessing. I have found that nothing is wanting that human ingenuity can invent to make these inns comfortable. The wants of visitors are anticipated. The strictest attention is paid to them from the time they go in until they come out. Every order is executed with punctuality and dispatch. The "constant reader" is supplied with newspapers, from the Times down to the humblest provincial journal. The spouting politician or controversialist has the privilege, if he wish it, of becoming a member of a miniature parliament and taking a part in all the great questions of the day. And I may remark here, that in one of these Brandiport parliaments there is sometimes as much vehemence of argument, energy of diction, and heartiness of acclamation as in the great house at St. Stephen's. For those who are fond of gambling there is the card table, the billiard room, the bagatelle board, and plenty of raffling for all kinds of articles, animal, vegetable, or mineral. Gentlemen who are fond of ease and are averse to all kinds of exertion, either intellectual or bodily, are indulged with arm-chairs or other luxurious seats, where they can sip their brandy-and-water, smoke their pipe, or whiff their cigar with the

utmost self-satisfaction and enjoyment. In these houses the attendants, both male and female, display the very essence of politeness. From the sparkling champagne down to the commonest table beer they are ready to supply every customer in quantities however small or however large. And every payment they receive, in return excites a smile of gratitude. In these tradesmen's rooms the landlord, fine, fat, and jocund, often honors his customers with his presence. He is sometimes a great promoter of conviviality. I have no language to describe the fascinating influences which these social meetings exert on the minds of poor men who have yet to learn the art of self-possession and decision of character. Their sentiments are

"The mortal that drinks is the only brave fellow, Though never so poor he's a king when he's mellow; Grows richer than Crœsus by whimsical thinking, And never knows care while he follows his drinking."

Nay, they are totally carried away out of the world of reality and discretion once they become patrons of these taverns: families, domestic concerns, business, cares of all kinds are for the time forgotten. The attractions of home become weak and powerless. Wives may lament and sigh in vain; they must be contented, while the evil remains, with brief interviews, with very hurried visits from their dear partners whom they have taken for better for worse, whom they have promised to love, cherish, and obey, until death them do part.

England has been truly termed a 'drinking nation." It is so still in spite of all the bold and determined efforts of philanthropists to

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effect a reform in the customs and habits of the people. It is impossible to tell the raptures that are felt when a few of these convivial lords of the creation get together. "Here," as one of themselves has said, 66 man meets his fellowman as a brother. How the heart opens as the cork is drawn and the sparkling juice ripples into the glass! How the merry jest and jibe, the cheerful toast and heartfelt sentiment, go round, each succeeding one received with more zest and glee than the former! How the expanded hand of fellowship is held forth even to an enemy! It is indeed a glorious sight to see the joyous hilarity of a convivial meeting." A far more glorious sight in my opinion to see the married portion at least of these "convivials" at home with their wives and children! But the home of the tippler is too dull for him. It is scarcely endurable. He becomes enamoured of the public-house and its proceedings, he cannot tell why or wherefore. But I can tell. When he gets there he soon feels gently elevated by the intoxicating draughts. His fancy and imagination get excited; he begins to soar above the little things of home; a glow of generous feeling plays about his heart, and, while it lasts, he, like another Elihu Burritt, sighs for universal brotherhood.

I am far from saying that the men who regularly attend these taverns are drunkards. This would be libelling them with a vengeance. They know too well that the harmony of their meetings depends upon an avoidance of inebriety. This would spoil their fun and their enjoyment. The chairman, I believe, can command the ex

pulsion of any member who becomes what they term "half seas over" before the meeting concludes. I was much amused in reading, what certainly no lady ought to read, a few of their rules, on this head.

"When you feel desperately eager to have another glass, leave off drinking, you have had enough; when you appear to see two objects when there is only one, you have had too much; when you knock over the glass and spill the contents on the table, leave, you are getting troublesome; when you nod in the chair or fall on the floor, go to bed, you are drunk.”

That any of our intelligent, thinking men of Brandiport, are in the habit of violating these rules or exhibiting those symptoms, I should be sorry to suppose. It is the company, not the drink, according to their own confession, that attracts them there. They love to hear an enlivening debate, a sentimental or comic song, and the rare anecdotes and brilliant jests of those witty spirits who

"Are wont to set the table in a roar,

And give each glass a jest unknown before."

Not contented with drawing away from their homes our husbands, brothers, sons, fathers, every evening in the week, several of our Brandiport publicans have got a fine organ in the saloons attached to their houses, and upon a large board the Lord's Prayer and Ten Commandments are painted in bright and legible characters, while a musician plays sacred tunes during the whole sabbath evening; thus giving an air of sanctity to