“You find that system rather inquisitorial, eh?”
“Well, no; it is intended for the common good, and everyone submits to what is for the good of all. We freely vote the law, and freely keep the law. But for myself the rule is a dead letter, as no intoxicating drink ever enters my house.”
In going through the scale mills I notice several classes of artisans.
Five hundred men are toiling in the various rooms.
The work is mostly hard; in some departments very hard.
The heat is often great.
From seven till twelve, from one till seven, the men are at their posts.
The range of heat and cold is trying; for the summer sun is fierce, the winter frost is keen.
Your ordinary citizen cannot live through the summer heats without a trip to Lake Champlain
and the Adirondack Mountains
Yet the men engaged in these manufactories are said to drink no beer, no whisky, and no gin. Drinking and smoking are not allowed on the premises.
Such orders might be meant for discipline; but I am told that these five hundred workmen never taste a drop of either beer or gin. Their drink is water, their delight is tea. Yet everyone assures me that they work well, enjoy good health,