Then,again,let us never forget that the temptation to drink is strongest when want is sharpest and misery the most acute.A well-fed man is not driven to drink by the craving that torments the hungry;and the comfortable do not crave for the boon of forgetfulness.Gin is the only Lethe of the miserable.The foul and poisoned air of the dens in which thousands live predisposes to a longing for stimulant.
Fresh air,with its oxygen and its ozone,being lacking,a man supplies the want with spirit.After a time the longing for drink becomes a mania.Life seems as insupportable without alcohol as without food.
It is a disease often inherited,always developed by indulgence,but as clearly a disease as ophthalmia or stone.
All this should predispose us to charity and sympathy.
While recognising that the primary responsibility must always rest upon the individual,we may fairly insist that society,which,by its habits,its customs,and its laws,has greased the slope down which these poor creatures slide to perdition,shall seriously take in hand their salvation.How many are there who are,more or less,under the dominion of strong drink?Statistics abound,but they seldom tell us what we want to know.We know how many public-houses there are in the land,and how many arrests for drunkenness the police make in a year;but beyond that we know little.Everyone knows that for one man who is arrested for drunkenness there are at least ten and often twenty--who go home intoxicated.In London,for instance,there are 14,000drink shops,and every year 20,000persons are arrested for drunkenness.But who can for a moment believe that there are only 20,000,more or less,habitual drunkards in London?By habitual drunkard I do not mean one who is always drunk,but one who is so much under the dominion of the evil habit that he cannot be depended upon not to get drunk whenever the opportunity offers.