almost makes him sick. I have been accustomed to make him swallow a little wine or weak spirits-and-water, by way of medicine when he was sick, and, in fact, I have done what I could to make him hate them."
Everybody laughed, except the young widow and her son.
"Well, Mrs. Graham," said my mother, wiping the tears of merriment from her bright blue eyes—"well, you surprise me! I really gave you credit for having more sense—The poor child will be the veriest milksop that ever was sopped! Only think what a man you will make of him, if you persist in—"
"I think it a very excellent plan," interrupted Mrs. Graham with imperturbable gravity. "By that means I hope to save him from one degrading vice at least. I wish I could render the incentives to every other equally innoxious in his case."
"But by such means," said I, "you will never render him virtuous.—What is it that
