Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. I spent my fair share of time in the closet. The vast heap of rubbish on the floor had been so materially increased by the bricks and plaster thrown down in his attack upon the wall of the Red Room, that it was with some difficulty he could find the blanket which was almost buried beneath the pile. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. "I do not see him.
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