"
The bee-hunter was glad to hear that all the family had not this
man's vice, for he now plainly foresaw that the accidents of his
position must bring him and these strangers much in contact, for
some weeks, at least. Le Bourdon, though not absolutely "afraid of a
jug," as Whiskey Centre had expressed it, was decidedly a temperate
man; drinking but seldom, and never to excess. He too well knew the
hazards by which he was surrounded, to indulge in this way, even had
he the taste for it; but he had no taste that way, one small jug of
brandy forming his supply for a whole season. In these days of
exaggeration in all things, exaggeration in politics, in religion,
in temperance, in virtue, and even in education, by putting "new
wine into old bottles," that one little jug might have sufficed to
give him a bad name; but five-and-thirty years ago men had more real
independence than they now possess, and were not as much afraid of
that croquemitaine, public opinion, as they are to-day. To be sure,
it was little to le Bourdon's taste to make a companion of such a
person as Whiskey Centre; but there was no choice. The man was an
utter stranger to him; and the only means he possessed of making
sure that he did not carry off the property that lay so much at his
mercy, was by keeping near him.
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