Herbert Hoover went into the White House last week as the Dry Hope of all U. S. Prohibitors. He will, they assured one another, be the right man at last to catch and hold that greased and perhaps blind pig called Prohibition. They recalled Harding and the well-filled whiskey flask (for medicinal purposes) in his White House office desk, and Coolidge, dry as a Vermont tinder box but deficient in the hot crusading flame of the true prohibitor. Now—bless the day—had come a President in whom for years has been seen a...

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