On going home at dinner time, Hobart’s wife said to him, with a serious face—­

“A demijohn, with some kind of liquor in it, was sent here to-day.”

“Oh, yes,” he replied, it is brandy that Doctor L—­ordered me to take as a cholera preventive.”

“Brandy!” ejaculated Mrs. Hobart, with an expression of painful surprise in her voice and on her countenance, that rather annoyed her husband.

“Yes.  He says that he takes it every day as a preventive, and directed me to do the same.”

“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.  Indeed I wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Hobart, earnestly.

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You will violate your contract with the Sons of Temperance.”

“Not at all.  Brandy may be used as a medicine under the prescription of a physician.  I wouldn’t have thought of touching it had not Doctor L—­ordered me to do so.”

“You are not sick, Edward.”

“But there is death in the very air I breathe.  At any moment I am liable to be struck down by an arrow sent from an unseen bow, unless a shield be interposed.  Such a shield has been placed in my hands.  Shall I not use it?”

Mrs. Hobart knew her husband well enough to be satisfied that remonstrance and argument would be of no avail, now that his mind was m de up to use the brandy; and yet so distressed did she feel, that she couldn’t help saying, with tears in her eyes—­

“Eaward,(sic) let me beg of you not to touch it.”

“Would you rather see me in my coffin?” replied Mr. Hobart, with some bitterness.  “Death may seem a light thing to you, but it is not so to me.”

“You are not sick,” still urged the wife.

“But I am liable, as I said just now, to take the disease every moment.”

“You will be more liable, with your system stimulated and disturbed by brandy.  Let well enough alone.  Be thankful for the health you have, and do not invite disease.”

“The doctor ought to know.  He understands the matter better than you or I. He recommends brandy as a preventive.  He takes it himself.”

“Because he likes it, no doubt.”

“It is silly for you to talk in that way,” replied the husband, with much impatience.  “He isn’t rendered more liable to the disease by taking a little pure brandy, for he says that it keeps him perfectly well.”

“A glass of brandy every day may have been his usual custom,” urged Mrs. Hobart.  “In that case, in its continuance, no change was produced.  But your system has been untouched by the fiery liquid for nearly five years, and its sudden introduction must create disturbance.  It is reasonable.”

“The doctor ought to know best,” was replied to this.  “He has prescribed it, and I must take it.  Life is too serious a matter to be trifled with.  ‘An ounce of preventive is worth a pound of cure,’ you know.”

“I am in equal danger with yourself,” said Mrs. Hobart; “and so are the children.”