iver, and am
compelled to abstain from spirits which have a sustaining and medicinal
effect on that organ, and this deprivation is solely due to the
unnatural and inexplicable existence of Englishmen. It may be that
nature grew Englishmen for the sole purpose of interfering with my
organs, and so, by modifying my teaching in accordance with my diseased
interior, nature may be striving to evolve a new culture wherein bile
will have a rare ability. If this is so, then I am not at all obliged
to nature for singling me out as the instrument of her changes; if it
is not so I can only confess my ignorance and wash my hands of the
matter.

"Mark you, it was only during my lifetime that an exorbitant tax was
placed on whisky. Before my era the interference with this refreshment
was of the most tentative and apologetic description.

"I can remember, and I do remember with dismay, the time when whisky
was purchaseable at two bronze pennies for the naggin, but now one may
discharge a ruinous impost for the privilege of imbibing one poor
fourth of that happy measure.

"This has been brought about by the continuous interference of
Englishmen with my liquor. Time and again they have added additional
difficulties to my obtaining this medicinal refreshment, and, while I
am compelled to bow my head to the ideas of nature for the improvement
of our race, I am often inclined, having bowed it, to charge goat-like
at these intolerable people and butt them off the face of the earth
into the nowhere for which their villainous and ungenial habits have
fitted them. Otherwise, by their future exactions I may be brought to
the drinking of benzene or printer's ink for lack of a fortune
wherewith to purchase fitter refreshment."

Having said this with great fury, the old gentleman laid down his
untasted pint and stalked out. The acolyte behind the counter made a
sympathetic clicking noise with his tongue and sold the pint to another
man.--He probably did this thoughtlessly, and I did not care to
embarrass him by remarking on it.

IX

I met the old gentleman marching solemnly across Cork Hill. There was
a tramcar in his immediate rear, a cab in front of him, an outside-car
and a bicycle on his right hand, and a dray laden with barrels on his
left. The drivers of all these vehicles were entreating him in one
voice to stroll elsewhere. He looked around and, observing that
matters were complicated, he opened his umbrella, held it over his
he