yond all other
periods, the happiest period of my life.

But the time was at hand, rhymeless and reasonless so far as I can see,
when I was to begin to pay for my score of years of dallying with John
Barleycorn. Occasionally guests journeyed to the ranch and remained a
few days. Some did not drink. But to those who did drink, the absence
of all alcohol on the ranch was a hardship. I could not violate my sense
of hospitality by compelling them to endure this hardship. I ordered in
a stock--for my guests.

I was never interested enough in cocktails to know how they were made.
So I got a bar-keeper in Oakland to make them in bulk and ship them to
me. When I had no guests I didn't drink. But I began to notice, when I
finished my morning's work, that I was glad if there were a guest, for
then I could drink a cocktail with him.

Now I was so clean of alcohol that even a single cocktail was provocative
of pitch. A single cocktail would glow the mind and tickle a laugh for
the few minutes prior to sitting down to table and starting the
delightful process of eating. On the other hand, such was the strength
of my stomach, of my alcoholic resistance, that the single cocktail was
only the glimmer of a glow, the faintest tickle of a laugh. One day, a
friend frankly and shamelessly suggested a second cocktail. I drank the
second one with him. The glow was appreciably longer and warmer, the
laughter deeper and more resonant. One does not forget such experiences.
Sometimes I almost think that it was because I was so very happy that I
started on my real drinking.

I remember one day Charmian and I took a long ride over the mountains on
our horses. The servants had been dismissed for the day, and we returned
late at night to a jolly chafing-dish supper. Oh, it was good to be
alive that night while the supper was preparing, the two of us alone in
the kitchen. I, personally, was at the top of life. Such things as the
books and ultimate truth did not exist. My body was gloriously healthy,
and healthily tired from the long ride. It had been a splendid day. The
night was splendid. I was with the woman who was my mate, picnicking in
gleeful abandon. I had no troubles. The bills were all paid, and a
surplus of money was rolling in on me. The future ever-widened before
me. And right there, in the kitchen, delicious things bubbled in the
chafing-dish, our laughter bubbled, and my stomach was keen with a most
delicious