10 BOOK OF A HUNDRED BEARS 



said '^I take mine with sugar.'' No one mur- 

 mured '^a little of the same." Gin rickies, dry 

 and wet cocktails, remained in their respective 

 dens. The high-ball tinkled not, the compound 

 of gin fizzed not. The dust gathered on the bar, 

 and about the costly cut glass the spider wove his 

 snare. 



Meanwhile, the sturdy prohibitionists of Maine 

 and Georgia, of Kansas, Iowa and Texas, fore- 

 gathered in the alleys and the livery stables and 

 in the fastnesses of their rooms. They took it as 

 they had been accustomed to. Took it from the 

 bottle, straight, or, at most, with plain water, then 

 or afterward. From the effeminate half pints of 

 Maine and Iowa, to the sturdy quarts of Kansas 

 and Georgia, the product of Kentucky and Illinois 

 and Ohio and Pennsylvania was there — all pur- 

 veyed in bottles bearing the certificate of the 

 Pure Food Law. Reassured by that sacred 

 emblem of its worth, the Democracy drained the 

 last drop from hundreds and thousands of bottles; 

 and then there were ' 'empties," which, as every 

 boy knows, are worth money. For days the 



