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DAVE PORTER AND HIS CLASSMATES

fluence of liquor, he slipped under a street car and had his arm crushed so badly he had to have it amputated.

"My uncle's losing that arm scared me a little. I was then about ten years old, and I made up my mind I wouldn't drink much more. But the stuff tasted good to me and I didn't want to break off entirely. So I continued to drink a little and then a little more, until I thought I couldn't have my dinner without wine, or something like that, to go with it.

"When I was about thirteen a lady I knew well gave a New Year's party to a lot of young folks, and I was invited. I was one of the youngest boys there. The lady had punch, set out in a big cut-glass bowl on a stand in a corner of the hall, with sandwiches and cake alongside. I tried that punch and liked it, and I drank so much that I got noisy, and the lady had to send me home in her carriage.

"I guess that woke my father up to the fact that matters were going too far, and he told me I mustn't drink liquor away from home. He couldn't stop me from drinking at our house, for he had it himself there. But he had helped me to get the appetite, and I couldn't stop. On the next Fourth of July I spent my money in a tavern some distance away from where we lived, and there some rascals—I can't call them men—treated me liberally, just to see me make a fool of myself, I sup-