INGERSOLL'S EULOGY ON WHISKY.
“I SEND you some of the most wonderful whisky that ever drove the skeleton from the feast or painted landscapes in the brain of man. It is the mingled souls of wheat and corn. In it you will find the sunshine and the shadow that chased each other over billowy fields, and the breath of June, the carol of the lark, the dew of the night, the wealth of summer, and autumn’s rich content, all golden with imprisoned light. Drink it, and you will hear the voice of men and maidens singing the ‘Harvest Home,’ mingled with the laughter of children. Drink it, and you will feel within your blood the starred dawns, the dreamy, tawny dusks of perfect days. For forty years this liquid joy has been within staves of oak, longing to touch the lips of man.” “I send you some of the most wonderful whisky that ever brought a skeleton into the closet, or painted scenes of lust and bloodshed in the brain of man. It is the ghost of wheat and corn, crazed by the loss of their natural bodies. In it you will find a transient sunshine chased by the shadow as cold as Arctic midnight, in which the breath of June grows icy, and the carol of the lark gives place to the foreboding cry of the raven. Drink it, and you will have ‘woe,’ ‘sorrow,’ ‘babbling’ and ‘wounds without cause,’ ‘your eyes shall behold strange women,’ and ‘your heart shall utter perverse things.’ Drink it deep, and you shall hear the voice of demons shrieking, women wailing, and worse than orphaned children mourning the loss of a father who yet lives. Drink it deep and long, and serpents will hiss in your ears, coil themselves about your neck, and seize you with their fangs; for ‘at last it biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder.’ For forty years this liquid death has been within staves of oak, harmless there as purest water. I send it to you that you may ‘put an enemy in your mouth to steal away your brain.’ And yet I call myself your friend.”— Exchange.