answered the father sternly; "we never have wine on the table, except
when certain men are here. When did you ever see even an empty glass
there, when our temperance friends visit us?"

The boy did not answer, but kept his fine honest eyes fixed on his
father, and their half astonished, half grieved expression disturbed
the politician, who really loved his son.

"You are not old enough to understand the duties of a public station
like mine, Frederick; a politician, to be successful, must be a little
of all things to all men."

"Then I, for one, will never be a politician," exclaimed the boy,
while childish tears were struggling with manly indignation.

"God forbid that you ever should," was the thought that rose in the
father's heart; for there was yet one green spot in his nature kept
fresh by love of his only son.

"And," continued the boy still more impetuously, "I will never drink
another glass of wine in my life. What is wrong for the poor is wrong
for the rich. What I may not give to a suffering child, I will not
drink myself."

"Now that is going a little too far, I should say, Fred," interposed
Mrs. Farnham, softly withdrawing her gloves, and allowing the
fire-light to flash over her diamond rings; "my opinion has long been
that whisky punches, brandy what-do-you-call-'ems, and things of that
sort, are decidedly immoral; but champaigne and Madeira, sherry
coblers--a vulgar name that--always puts one in mind of low