A priest went to a barber shop conducted by one of his Irish
parishioners to get a shave. He observed the barber was suffering from a
recent celebration, but decided to take a chance. In a few moments the
barber's razor had nicked the father's cheek. "There, Pat, you have cut
me," said the priest as he raised his hand and caressed the wound. "Yis,
y'r riv'rance," answered the barber. "That shows you," continued the
priest, in a tone of censure, "what the use of liquor will do." "Yis,
y'r riv'rance," replied the barber, humbly, "it makes the skin tender."
Ex-congressman Asher G. Caruth, of Kentucky, tells this story of an
experience he once had on a visit to a little Ohio town.
"I went up there on legal business," he says, "and, knowing that I
should have to stay all night, I proceeded directly to the only hotel.
The landlord stood behind the desk and regarded me with a kindly air as
I registered. It seems that he was a little hard of hearing, a fact of
which I was not aware. As I jabbed the pen back into the dish of bird
shot, I said:
"'Can you direct me to the bank?'
"He looked at me blankly for a second, then swinging the register
around, he glanced down swiftly, caught the 'Louisville' after my name,
and an expression of complete understanding lighting up his countenance,
he said:
"'Certainly, sir. You will find the bar right through that door at the
left.'"
_See also_ Drunkards; Good fellowship; Temperance; Wine.