hereby they whiled away the tedium of existence by making
fools of their betters. As I learned afterward, they had got their
previous guest of honour, a brilliant young radical, unskilled in
drinking, quite pipped.

When I found myself with them, and the situation dawned on me, up rose my
queer man-pride. I'd show them, the young rascals. I'd show them who
was husky and chesty, who had the vitality and the constitution, the
stomach and the head, who could make most of a swine of himself and show
it least. These unlicked cubs who thought they could out-drink ME!

You see, it was an endurance test, and no man likes to give another best.
Faugh! it was steam beer. I had learned more expensive brews. Not for
years had I drunk steam beer; but when I had, I had drunk with men, and I
guessed I could show these youngsters some ability in beer-guzzling. And
the drinking began, and I had to drink with the best of them. Some of
them might lag, but the guest of honour was not permitted to lag.

And all my austere nights of midnight oil, all the books I had read, all
the wisdom I had gathered, went glimmering before the ape and tiger in me
that crawled up from the abysm of my heredity, atavistic, competitive and
brutal, lustful with strength and desire to outswine the swine.

And when the session broke up I was still on my feet, and I walked,
erect, unswaying--which was more than can be said of some of my hosts. I
recall one of them in indignant tears on the street corner, weeping as he
pointed out my sober condition. Little he dreamed the iron clutch, born
of old training, with which I held to my consciousness in my swimming
brain, kept control of my muscles and my qualms, kept my voice unbroken
and easy and my thoughts consecutive and logical. Yes, and mixed up with
it all I was privily a-grin. They hadn't made a fool of me in that
drinking bout. And I was proud of myself for the achievement. Darn it,
I am still proud, so strangely is man compounded.

But I didn't write my thousand words next morning. I was sick, poisoned.
It was a day of wretchedness. In the afternoon I had to give a public
speech. I gave it, and I am confident it was as bad as I felt. Some of
my hosts were there in the front rows to mark any signs on me of the
night before. I don't know what signs they marked, but I marked signs on
them and took consolation in the knowledge that they were just as sick as
I.

Never again, I swore. And I ha