Couldn' do it now t' save my life.

Temp'rance been _my_ ruin." He threw himself on his bed.
"It's all righ'.

At nine o'clock to-morrow morning, no--at a quar'er pas' nine, I mean three quar'ers pas' nine, I shall be drunk.

Not disgustingly and ridicklelously, as you are, Spinky, at this minute, but soo-p-p-perbubbly, loominously, divinely drunk! You don' know what I could do if I was only drunk." "Oh, come, I shouldn't complain, if I was you.

You'll do pretty well as you are, I think." With an almost maternal tenderness and tact Mr.Spinks contrived to separate the poet from his poem.