"
The Import Clerk mixed the drinks and set them on the
desk.
I was about to take one, but he interrupted.
"One minute, sir," he said.
Then he took up a desk telephone that stood beside him
and I heard him calling up Montreal. "Hullo, Montreal!
Is that Montreal? Well, say, I've just received an offer
here for two whisky and sodas at sixty cents, shall I
close with it? All right, gentlemen, Montreal has effected
the sale. There you are."
"Dreadful, isn't it?" said Mr. Narrowpath. "The sunken,
depraved condition of your City of Montreal; actually
_selling_ whisky. Deplorable!" and with that he buried
his face in the bubbles of the whisky and soda.
"Mr. Narrowpath," I said, "would you mind telling me
something? I fear I am a little confused, after what I
have seen here, as to what your new legislation has been.
You have not then, I understand, prohibited the making
of whisky?"
"Oh, no, we see no harm in that."
"Nor the sale of it?"
"Certainly not," said Mr. Narrowpath, "not if sold
_properly_."
"Nor the drinking of it?"
"Oh, no, that least of all. We attach no harm whatever,
under our law, to the mere drinking of whisky."
"Would you tell me then," I asked, "since you have not
forbidden the making, nor the selling, nor the buying,
nor the drinking of whisky, just what it is that you have
prohibited? What is the difference between Montreal and
Toronto?"
Mr.
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