"Why, my dear Walter," says he, "I am surprised. Don't give way to
strong drink. Verily, verily, put it behind you."
"Why, parson," says I, "I am very much surprised that you can't see that
I've got it behind me now.
[Illustration]
"Say," says I, "I fell down stairs last night, parson, with twenty
bottles of beer, and didn't break one of them."
"Verily, verily," says he, "that was indeed marvelous. How did you
accomplish that extraordinary feat?"
"I had them inside me," says I.
The parson passed on and the next fellow I met was Dr. Brown of Spotless
Town.
"What!" says he, "drinking beer again, friend Jones? I thought I told
you that every glass of beer you took put a nail in your coffin."
"Can't give it up, doctor," says I. "Then, too, what does it matter
after you're dead and gone if your coffin is as full of nails as the new
East River Bridge is full of rivets."