“I was about swearing off from ever tasting another drop of liquor.  But, I believe I will try a ‘Sub-Treasury’ with you, just for the fun of the thing.”

“Well, come along then.”

And so the two started off for the Harmony House.

“Give us a couple of Sub-Treasuries,” said one of them as they entered; and forthwith a couple of glasses filled with mixed liquors, crushed ice, lemonpeel, and snow-white sugar, were prepared, and a straw placed in each, through which the young men “imbibed” the new compound.

“Really, this is fine, Nelson!” said the one, called Joe, smacking his lips.

“It is, indeed.  You’ll make your fortune out of this, Graves.”

“Do you think so?” the pleased liquor-seller responded, with a broad smile of satisfaction.

“I’ve not the least doubt of it,” Joe, or Joseph Bancroft, said,—­“I had half resolved to join the temperance society this day.  But your ‘Sub-Treasury’ has shaken my resolution.  I shall never be able to do it now in this world, nor in the next, either, if I can only get you in the same place with me to make ‘Sub-Treasury!’ Ha! ha! ha!”

“A Sub-Treasury,” said another young man, coming up to the bar.

“Here, landlord, let us have one of your—­what do you call ’em?  O, Sub-Treasuries!” was the request of another.

“Hallo, Sandy!  What new-fangled stuff is this you’ve got?” broke in a half-drunken creature, staggering up, and holding on to the bar-railing.  “Let us have one, will you?”

Both Sandy and Graves were now kept as busy as they could be, mixing liquors and serving customers.  The advertisement which had been inserted in two or three of the morning papers, in the following words, had answered fully the rum-sellers’ expectations.

“Drop in at the HARMONY HOUSE, and try a ‘Sub-Treasury.’  ’What is a Sub-Treasury?’ you ask.  Come and see for yourself, and taste for yourself.  Old Graves’ word for it, you’ll never want anything else to wet your whistle with, as long as you live.”

All through the forenoon the run was kept up steadily, dozens of new faces appearing at the bar, and cheering the heart of the tavern-keeper with the prospect of a fresh set of customers.  About two o’clock, succeeded a pause.

“That works admirably,—­don’t it, Sandy?” said Mr. Graves, as soon as the bar-room was perfectly clear, for the first time, since morning.

“Indeed, it does.  They havn’t given me time to blow.  But aint some folks easily gulled?”

“Easily enough, Sandy.  This Sub-Treasury they think something wonderful.  But it’s only rum after all, by another name, and in a little different form.  A ‘cobbler,’ or a ‘julep’ has lost its attractions; but get up some new name for an old compound, and you go all before the wind again.”

“I think we might tempt some of the new converts to temperance with this.  Bill Riley, for instance.”