Do you think that makes a chap mad and miserable, and tired of his life, or not?
And if a drop of grog will take him right out of his wretched self for a bit why shouldn't he drink?
People don't know what they are talking about.

Why, he is that miserable that he wonders why he don't hang himself, and save the Government all the trouble; and if a few nobblers make him feel as if he might have some good chances yet, and that it doesn't so much matter after all, why shouldn't he drink?
He does drink, of course; every miserable man, and a good many women as have something to fear or repent of, drink.

The worst of it is that too much of it brings on the 'horrors', and then the devil, instead of giving you a jog now and then, sends one of his imps to grin in your face and pull your heartstrings all day and all night long.

By George, I'm getting clever--too clever, altogether, I think.

If I could forget for one moment, in the middle of all the nonsense, that I was to die on Thursday three weeks! die on Thursday three weeks! die on Thursday! That's the way the time runs in my ears like a chime of bells.