I'd
give up all th' fun I get out iv dhrinkin' men to escape th' throuble I
have fr'm dhrunkards. Drink's a poison. I don't deny it. I'll admit I'm
no betther thin an ordinhry doctor. Both iv us gives ye something that
cures ye iv th' idee that th' pain in ye'er chest is pnoomony iv th'
lungs. If it really is pnoomony ye go off somewhere an' lie down an'
ayether ye cure ye'ersilf iv pnoomony or th' pnoomony cures ye iv life.
Dhrink niver made a man betther, but it has made manny a man think he
was betther. A little iv it lifts ye out iv th' mud where chance has
thrown ye; a little more makes ye think th' stains on ye'er coat ar-re
eppylets; a little more dhrops ye back into th' mud again. It's a frind
to thim that ar-re cold to it an' an inimy to those that love it most.
It welcomes thim in an' thrips thim as they go out. I tell ye 'tis a
threacherous dhrug an' it oughtn't to be given to ivry man.
"To get a dhrink a man ought first to be examined be his parish priest
to see whether he needs it an' how it's goin' to affect him. F'r wan man
he'd write on th' prescription 'Ad lib,' as Dock O'Leary does whin he
ordhers a mustard plasther f'r me; f'r another he'd write: 'Three times
a day at meals.' But most people he wudden't prescribe it f'r at all.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100